Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Le Tour 2007 - Stage 16 to 18
It's in the bag now! All the big stages are done with only a 35 mile time trial and a celebratory ride into Paris remaining.
Stage 16 was a killer in the Pyrenees, the last day in the mountains. At 136 miles and 17,000 feet of climbing it was a test for all of us, but Amy, Mark, and I conquered. The rest day and cooler weather than Stage 15 surely saved me. Stages 17 and 18 were annoyingly long and annoyingly hilly; I think we had it in our minds that we just had easy rolling into Paris left. But we got through and the end is now in sight.
Mark has been doing such a good job with the Tour blog that I defer to him for more descriptions and excellent pictures.
http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
Stage 16 was a killer in the Pyrenees, the last day in the mountains. At 136 miles and 17,000 feet of climbing it was a test for all of us, but Amy, Mark, and I conquered. The rest day and cooler weather than Stage 15 surely saved me. Stages 17 and 18 were annoyingly long and annoyingly hilly; I think we had it in our minds that we just had easy rolling into Paris left. But we got through and the end is now in sight.
Mark has been doing such a good job with the Tour blog that I defer to him for more descriptions and excellent pictures.
http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Le Tour 2007 - Stage 15
Stage 15 - Foix - Loudenvielle - 124 miles
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
Stage 15 is the queen stage of the 2007 Tour de France. This is the stage the tour organizers have chosen for the Etape du Tour, a hugely popular amateur event where riders get to ride generally the toughest stage of the tour. This event would be two days after we ride the stage, but our campsite was crawling with cyclists working on their bikes and generally getting nervous. Stage 15 is daunting indeed. It includes five major passes, two Cat 2, two Cat 1, and one HC. While climbs are categorized on many factors including grade, height gain, and placement within stage, as a general rule of thumb I've learned that Cat 2 climbs tend to gain between 2000 and 2600 feet, Cat 1 climbs, between 2600 and 4000 feet, and HC climbs more than 4000 feet. And while we had 5 serious climbs on this day I also noticed on the profile that 4 of them occured in the second half of the ride. So, I knew this day was going to be a killer. And it was! My legs were tired from the start and the first Cat 2 climb, the Col de Port, was a struggle. I took it as easy as I could but clearly did not have any power as I had to resort to my 34-27 gearing on a climb that was only 5-7% grade. Luckily the next 40 or so miles were mostly downhill and flat so I was hopeful my legs would come around. A quick descent past the memorial for Fabio Casartelli who fatally crashed here in the 2005 Tour de France and it's on to the second climb, the Cat 2 Col de Portet d'Aspet. This climb was steeper and entirely exposed to the very hot sun, but I found an easy pace and just spun up and over it. Two climbs down, half the distance covered, and confidence increased that I would make it. Problem is, the remaining climbs are all Cat 1 and HC. The next climb, the Cat 1 Col de Menthe, was long and steep and the sun becoming overwhelmingly hot, but again I found a slow tempo and took a bit over an hour to slog over the climb. Next up after a nice descent is the monster, the Port de Bales. This climb is brand new to the Tour de France as the backside has only just been paved for the first time. This climb is a beast and is going to wreak havoc in the race. The specs on the climb are nothing special, 19km at 6.2%, but these are completely deceiving. The first 8km are hardly a climb at all, but the final 10km rise 900 meters, so a 9% average grade over the last 6 miles. But, even that is deceiving as there are significant flat stretches in that last 10K, so the climbing seemed to be always at 11,12,13 and even higher grade. For one stretch my altimeter was pegged at 16% and 17%. Now maybe it was pegged there because I was hardly actually moving! I went slowly but was making steady progress until about 5km left to go when whatever was left in my legs deserted me. The final 5km were absolute agony. I was completely shot and 5km at >10% is an absolute struggle when you have no power to put in the pedals. Finally, I crested the summit, struggled to get off the bike (collar bone and back still make mounting/dismounting a bit of a challenge) and about passed out on the ground next to Amy, who then rubbed salt in my wounds with the comment, "That wasn't too bad, huh?". I don't know, Amy. Ask the stranger who has come over to check on me, offer me water, and make sure I'm alright. Luckily Matt and Mike (a friend of Amy's who races bikes in Ireland and joined for day) were struggling as well and I had a good 20-30 minutes to recover at the top while we waited. I was completely shot, how was I going to get up the final climb of the day, the Cat 1 Col de Peyresourde? Slowly, that's how. This final 2600 foot climb was a steady 7.5% and I just pressed on, finally getting over the top and coasted down the other side to the finish. 124 miles and 16,000 feet of climbing. Nearly 9:30 of riding time for a double century, but I completed the queen stage of the tour, although I clearly went beyond my limits. Without a doubt it was the toughest day I have ever had on a bike. Now how much of this is because of the crushing heat and the fact that my legs started the day exhausted I will never know. But at the end I was completely spent and desperate for a rest day, which luckily we now get. Without it I would not attempt Stage 16. Stage 16 is another monster, the final mountain stage, and another 10/10 difficulty rating with two HC climbs and two Cat 1 climbs, plus a steep Cat 3 thrown in for good measure, and a summit finish atop the famous Col d'Aubisque. And at 136 miles the length just makes it that much more difficult. I need a miracle on my rest day!
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
Stage 15 is the queen stage of the 2007 Tour de France. This is the stage the tour organizers have chosen for the Etape du Tour, a hugely popular amateur event where riders get to ride generally the toughest stage of the tour. This event would be two days after we ride the stage, but our campsite was crawling with cyclists working on their bikes and generally getting nervous. Stage 15 is daunting indeed. It includes five major passes, two Cat 2, two Cat 1, and one HC. While climbs are categorized on many factors including grade, height gain, and placement within stage, as a general rule of thumb I've learned that Cat 2 climbs tend to gain between 2000 and 2600 feet, Cat 1 climbs, between 2600 and 4000 feet, and HC climbs more than 4000 feet. And while we had 5 serious climbs on this day I also noticed on the profile that 4 of them occured in the second half of the ride. So, I knew this day was going to be a killer. And it was! My legs were tired from the start and the first Cat 2 climb, the Col de Port, was a struggle. I took it as easy as I could but clearly did not have any power as I had to resort to my 34-27 gearing on a climb that was only 5-7% grade. Luckily the next 40 or so miles were mostly downhill and flat so I was hopeful my legs would come around. A quick descent past the memorial for Fabio Casartelli who fatally crashed here in the 2005 Tour de France and it's on to the second climb, the Cat 2 Col de Portet d'Aspet. This climb was steeper and entirely exposed to the very hot sun, but I found an easy pace and just spun up and over it. Two climbs down, half the distance covered, and confidence increased that I would make it. Problem is, the remaining climbs are all Cat 1 and HC. The next climb, the Cat 1 Col de Menthe, was long and steep and the sun becoming overwhelmingly hot, but again I found a slow tempo and took a bit over an hour to slog over the climb. Next up after a nice descent is the monster, the Port de Bales. This climb is brand new to the Tour de France as the backside has only just been paved for the first time. This climb is a beast and is going to wreak havoc in the race. The specs on the climb are nothing special, 19km at 6.2%, but these are completely deceiving. The first 8km are hardly a climb at all, but the final 10km rise 900 meters, so a 9% average grade over the last 6 miles. But, even that is deceiving as there are significant flat stretches in that last 10K, so the climbing seemed to be always at 11,12,13 and even higher grade. For one stretch my altimeter was pegged at 16% and 17%. Now maybe it was pegged there because I was hardly actually moving! I went slowly but was making steady progress until about 5km left to go when whatever was left in my legs deserted me. The final 5km were absolute agony. I was completely shot and 5km at >10% is an absolute struggle when you have no power to put in the pedals. Finally, I crested the summit, struggled to get off the bike (collar bone and back still make mounting/dismounting a bit of a challenge) and about passed out on the ground next to Amy, who then rubbed salt in my wounds with the comment, "That wasn't too bad, huh?". I don't know, Amy. Ask the stranger who has come over to check on me, offer me water, and make sure I'm alright. Luckily Matt and Mike (a friend of Amy's who races bikes in Ireland and joined for day) were struggling as well and I had a good 20-30 minutes to recover at the top while we waited. I was completely shot, how was I going to get up the final climb of the day, the Cat 1 Col de Peyresourde? Slowly, that's how. This final 2600 foot climb was a steady 7.5% and I just pressed on, finally getting over the top and coasted down the other side to the finish. 124 miles and 16,000 feet of climbing. Nearly 9:30 of riding time for a double century, but I completed the queen stage of the tour, although I clearly went beyond my limits. Without a doubt it was the toughest day I have ever had on a bike. Now how much of this is because of the crushing heat and the fact that my legs started the day exhausted I will never know. But at the end I was completely spent and desperate for a rest day, which luckily we now get. Without it I would not attempt Stage 16. Stage 16 is another monster, the final mountain stage, and another 10/10 difficulty rating with two HC climbs and two Cat 1 climbs, plus a steep Cat 3 thrown in for good measure, and a summit finish atop the famous Col d'Aubisque. And at 136 miles the length just makes it that much more difficult. I need a miracle on my rest day!
Le Tour 2007 - Stage 14
Stage 14 - Mazamet - Plateau de Beille - 123 miles
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
We're in the Pyrenees. I've been looking forward and dreading this for quite some time. Analysts of this year's tour route claim that the Alps stages are easier than normal and the Pyrenees stages harder than normal. Indeed, the stage ratings gave the hardest Alps stage (Stage 8) an 8/10 difficulty, while Stages 14,15, and 16 in the Pyrenees are rated 9, 10, and 10 respectively. Needless to say, I'm frightened and my legs are anything but fresh. But, we're in the Pyrenees, so let's get started. The stage starts immediately with a 2000 foot, Cat 2 climb directly out of Mazamet. Indeed, the "neutral zone" before the race even starts takes the riders about 1/3 of the way up the hill before the racing starts. Of course, it's all the same to us, the neutral zone is just a nuisance to us as it just means extra mileage. We take it quite easy and the morning is quite warm; no need for arm warmers or vest even at 7am. It appears the cold weather is finally behind us, will we miss it? The ride is beautiful, but uneventful through 75 miles where we hit the first hors-categorie climb of the day, the Port de Pailheres. This climb is 17K at 7.2%, but with numerous flat and even downhill stretches, the real climbing is actually almost always over 8%. It was on this climb in 2005 that Lance Armstrong struggled as his entire team cracked near the bottom and Lance was left isolated and T-Mobile attacked him relentlessly. I understand why Discovery faltered - despite the relatively benign stats, this climb is hard! Whenever I looked at my GPS altimeter I saw 10, 11, 12% grade. The climb was very exposed and it was very hot, the campervan reported 37C (100F). I struggled over the top, not at all encouraged that this first HC climb of the Pyrenees was so difficult and dreaded the summit finish at Plateau de Beille which would start immediately after the descent down the Port de Pailheres. The Plateau de Beille is a famous Tour de France climb that is 16K (10 miles) long and averages 8%. Considering how I felt on the 7% Port de Pailheres and that the Plateau de Beille started with 113 miles in the legs, I was quite worried. Matt called it a day after Port de Pailheres and was driving the van and he gave me a Coke about 1/3 of the way up. Unlike the Port de Pailheres the climb was a very steady grade at 8% the entire way and I found my tempo and cruised (slowly) to the top. First Pyrenean stage finished and it was HARD. Nearly nine hours in the saddle for just 123 miles. I just need to survive Stage 15 and we get a rest day
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
We're in the Pyrenees. I've been looking forward and dreading this for quite some time. Analysts of this year's tour route claim that the Alps stages are easier than normal and the Pyrenees stages harder than normal. Indeed, the stage ratings gave the hardest Alps stage (Stage 8) an 8/10 difficulty, while Stages 14,15, and 16 in the Pyrenees are rated 9, 10, and 10 respectively. Needless to say, I'm frightened and my legs are anything but fresh. But, we're in the Pyrenees, so let's get started. The stage starts immediately with a 2000 foot, Cat 2 climb directly out of Mazamet. Indeed, the "neutral zone" before the race even starts takes the riders about 1/3 of the way up the hill before the racing starts. Of course, it's all the same to us, the neutral zone is just a nuisance to us as it just means extra mileage. We take it quite easy and the morning is quite warm; no need for arm warmers or vest even at 7am. It appears the cold weather is finally behind us, will we miss it? The ride is beautiful, but uneventful through 75 miles where we hit the first hors-categorie climb of the day, the Port de Pailheres. This climb is 17K at 7.2%, but with numerous flat and even downhill stretches, the real climbing is actually almost always over 8%. It was on this climb in 2005 that Lance Armstrong struggled as his entire team cracked near the bottom and Lance was left isolated and T-Mobile attacked him relentlessly. I understand why Discovery faltered - despite the relatively benign stats, this climb is hard! Whenever I looked at my GPS altimeter I saw 10, 11, 12% grade. The climb was very exposed and it was very hot, the campervan reported 37C (100F). I struggled over the top, not at all encouraged that this first HC climb of the Pyrenees was so difficult and dreaded the summit finish at Plateau de Beille which would start immediately after the descent down the Port de Pailheres. The Plateau de Beille is a famous Tour de France climb that is 16K (10 miles) long and averages 8%. Considering how I felt on the 7% Port de Pailheres and that the Plateau de Beille started with 113 miles in the legs, I was quite worried. Matt called it a day after Port de Pailheres and was driving the van and he gave me a Coke about 1/3 of the way up. Unlike the Port de Pailheres the climb was a very steady grade at 8% the entire way and I found my tempo and cruised (slowly) to the top. First Pyrenean stage finished and it was HARD. Nearly nine hours in the saddle for just 123 miles. I just need to survive Stage 15 and we get a rest day
Le Tour 2007 - Stage 13
Stage 13 - Albi - Albi Time Trial - 34 miles
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
Finally, after 12 stages we reach the first of two time trials. While the pros have to race this, for us it meant a short, easy day of only 34 miles. We slept in, took our time with breakfast and getting ready, and finally headed out around 9:30. Matt had purchased one of each of the official Tour jerseys - yellow (race leader), green (points leader), white (best young rider), polka dot (king of the mountains) and we chose this day to deck ourselves out in this garb. The reactions we got from drivers and other cyclists on the road was hysterical, and we had a real blast with this stage. This time trial is going to be something special and is definitely worth watching on TV. It is far from flat, and includes a long, very technical descent that I simply cannot imagine the pros undertaking on their difficult to handle time trial bikes. And, what goes down must go up, so there is also one very good climb and it is even categorized (a Cat 4). I'm not sure how categorized climbs work in time trials as it is certainly unusual, but this climb last 1.7 miles and climbs 580 feet. It should be a very interesting time trial to watch as it is certainly unusual, and is also very, very beautiful, reminding me of parts of the SavageMan course that descend into Savage River State Forest and then run alongside Savage River.
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
Finally, after 12 stages we reach the first of two time trials. While the pros have to race this, for us it meant a short, easy day of only 34 miles. We slept in, took our time with breakfast and getting ready, and finally headed out around 9:30. Matt had purchased one of each of the official Tour jerseys - yellow (race leader), green (points leader), white (best young rider), polka dot (king of the mountains) and we chose this day to deck ourselves out in this garb. The reactions we got from drivers and other cyclists on the road was hysterical, and we had a real blast with this stage. This time trial is going to be something special and is definitely worth watching on TV. It is far from flat, and includes a long, very technical descent that I simply cannot imagine the pros undertaking on their difficult to handle time trial bikes. And, what goes down must go up, so there is also one very good climb and it is even categorized (a Cat 4). I'm not sure how categorized climbs work in time trials as it is certainly unusual, but this climb last 1.7 miles and climbs 580 feet. It should be a very interesting time trial to watch as it is certainly unusual, and is also very, very beautiful, reminding me of parts of the SavageMan course that descend into Savage River State Forest and then run alongside Savage River.
Le Tour 2007 - Stage 12
Stage 12 Montpieler - Castres - 111 miles
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
After our Stage 11 experience of 112 miles straight into gale-force headwinds we were somewhat concerned about Stage 12's continued westerly direction. We were also somewhat concerned that this stage, like Stage 5, is considered a mountain transition stage - not really the mountains, but certainly not the flatlands. However, at only 111 miles we were hopeful for a relatively quick and mostly painless day. The first 40 miles were mostly unpleasant as we were on a pretty major road leaving Montpelier and fighting a headwind - not an epic headwind like the prior day but one strong enough to be quite annoying. However, after roughly 40 miles the winds died down as we were farther inland and the ride turned very nice and scenic as we rode through a stunning gorge. Beautiful and fun for the riders, less fun for Matt's wife Emma, the driver of the campervan, who had to negotiate the narrow roads with rock faces on either side and low rock overhangs. After two weeks of tough weather it seems we finally had gotten a break. This stretch of southern France should be unbearably hot, and that is what I had expected throughout, but on this day it was ideal cycling weather, about 70 degrees and sunny. Naturally it would not last. After 80 or so miles we headed through a national forest and into the Tarn region and climbed the Cat 2 La Jeanta ridge. As we approached the top we were riding in sunshine but through a mist - heaven! However, once over the top the mist turned into rain and we were forced to once again take out the arm warmers, vests, and rain capes. Who ever would have thought that on this stage for which "heat will be a factor" in the stage description, we'd ride into Castres all bundled up? All told, a moderately easy day and quite beautiful and scenic.
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
After our Stage 11 experience of 112 miles straight into gale-force headwinds we were somewhat concerned about Stage 12's continued westerly direction. We were also somewhat concerned that this stage, like Stage 5, is considered a mountain transition stage - not really the mountains, but certainly not the flatlands. However, at only 111 miles we were hopeful for a relatively quick and mostly painless day. The first 40 miles were mostly unpleasant as we were on a pretty major road leaving Montpelier and fighting a headwind - not an epic headwind like the prior day but one strong enough to be quite annoying. However, after roughly 40 miles the winds died down as we were farther inland and the ride turned very nice and scenic as we rode through a stunning gorge. Beautiful and fun for the riders, less fun for Matt's wife Emma, the driver of the campervan, who had to negotiate the narrow roads with rock faces on either side and low rock overhangs. After two weeks of tough weather it seems we finally had gotten a break. This stretch of southern France should be unbearably hot, and that is what I had expected throughout, but on this day it was ideal cycling weather, about 70 degrees and sunny. Naturally it would not last. After 80 or so miles we headed through a national forest and into the Tarn region and climbed the Cat 2 La Jeanta ridge. As we approached the top we were riding in sunshine but through a mist - heaven! However, once over the top the mist turned into rain and we were forced to once again take out the arm warmers, vests, and rain capes. Who ever would have thought that on this stage for which "heat will be a factor" in the stage description, we'd ride into Castres all bundled up? All told, a moderately easy day and quite beautiful and scenic.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
LeTour 2007 - Stages 9 - 11
Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com
Stage 9, Val-d'Isère - Briançon, 100 miles
The final Alps stage and this is one I really, really wanted complete. The climb over the Telegraphe and the Galibier is an epic in cycling, and indeed, the 35km haul is rated as the #7 toughest climb in all of cycling. I was hopeful the three days of rest would cure my quad ailment.
To my ignorant eye I was hopeful the stage would not be overly brutal. It was rated only 8/10 on difficulty scale, and of 100 miles nearly 70 of that were descending. However the other 30 miles were 2 HC (hors-category or above categorization) and 1 Cat 1. So, even with 70 miles of descending in this 100 mile ride, there still were over 10,000 feet of climbing. Yikes!
The day started off straight up the HC Col d'Iseran, a 15km climb at just under 7% average grade, rising 3300 feet and peaking out at 9100 feet. This is very similar in profile to the already completed Col de Columbriere in stage 7, however the col d'Iseran about killed me. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I summitted it together in just over an hour, and then enjoyed nearly 50 miles of downhill riding. The headwind didn't even bother us as we were going down, down, down. Then it was time for the col d'Telegraphe and the Galibier. The Telegraphe is "only" a Cat 1 climb that climbs 800 meters in 12km, another climb just under 7% avg grade. Then a very short 3km respite and the 20km Galibier awaits. Oh that was brutal, as it gets steeper and steeper towards the top. I thought my 34-27 granny gear was for the steep stuff in the Pyrenees, but the final 6km of the Galibier are nearly 10% and I kept it in that 34-27 and wished I had more. Finally we went over the top and enjoyed a 25 mile descent to Briancon - in a downpour of course.
All told, it was an exhilarating day and extremely challenging. The profiles of the Pyrenean stages are very daunting. I was quite pleased that my quad held up; at a few points on both the Iseran and Telegraphe I was concerned as I could feel some pain, but it never escalated as in previous rides.
Stage 10 - Tallard - Marseille - 143 miles
We're out of the Alps! And we're rewarded with a long haul south to the Mediterranean coast at Marseilles. We've been faced with constant headwinds (usually accompanied by rain) as we've ridden south through France, so the concept of a 143 mile day straight south was concerning. But, after a long 50 or so mile transfer to Tallard we arrived at our campground to a beautiful, warm (though windy) weather. Perhaps the weather god thoughts we tried to deceive him by driving south as he punished us overnight with a massive storm and we awoke to familiar rainy weather. However, the rain only lasted for the first 30 or so minutes of the ride and then we had glorious cool weather and not a touch of breeze. For the first time this tour we made good time, averaging over 18 miles per hour and the rolling terrain was beautiful. The run-in to Marseilles includes two Cat 3 climbs, which is simply rude after nearly 140 miles. The first was nice and scenic and almost enjoyable, but the 2nd occured after we reached the Med, took a right (west) and had the pleasure of climbing the seaside cliffs straight into the prevailing winds. Ugh! A final descent into Marseilles completed a very long, but very nice stage. And, unfortunately, this was the final day for Laura, who capped an excellent week of riding with her longest ride ever.
Stage 11 - Marseille - Montpellier - 115 miles
This stage should be one of the easiest of the entire tour. At 115 miles it is relatively short and is nearly entirely flat with only one Cat 4 climb. Unfortunately our bad luck with the weather continues, and today it was the wind that turned one of the easiest days into one of the toughest. The prevailing winds along the coast are west-to-east, so we knew there was a strong possibility of a day of headwinds. But, we were not expecting constant 30+mph winds straight in our faces for 115 miles. That, however, is what we received. Well, no, that's not entirely true. The stage ended up being only about 111 miles. And for some stretches the wind was only partially in our faces and partially hitting us from the right. The gusts were bending trees, shredding flags, and shaking our bikes. After a long day of 11-13 mph riding we were happy to overshoot our exit for the campsite and were rewarded with about 1/4 mile of tailwind as we returned for the finish! This 110 mile day took as long as yesterday's 143 miler! A tough day on too heavily trafficked roads, very close to the sea, but not so close that you could enjoy it. Surely there are nice back roads to cycle on around here, but this tour stage does not use them.
Tomorrow is Stage 12. We continue west, but a little further inland so we hope the winds die down. It is a deceptively difficult stage, although short at 111 miles, and I am concerned as my quad started to act up again towards the end of Stage 11. The Pyrenees await. Stages 14-16 are monsters. I am scared.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Le Tour 2007 - Stages 5 to 8
Pictures at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyleyost/sets/72157600685944637/
It's Friday July 6, and we are enjoying our rest day in Tignes, a cozy ski village in the French Alps. We are now in the heart of the Tour and in the heart of the mountains, and the bland, heavily trafficked stages of England and Belgium seem like ancient history.
Did I make some comment in my last post about having ridden out of the worst of the cold and rain? Well, I take it back. I was fearing scorching temperatures approaching 100F, but I have learned my lesson. July in France apparently means heavy rain with temps in the upper 40s to lower 50s with strong winds from the south. Oh, and we're riding from north to south, of course.
Stage 5 - Chablis - Autun; 115 miles
Stage 5 was a 115 mile day (120+ after all of our inevitable miscues) through the Morvan National Forest, and it was absolutely stunning! Between cloudbursts there was the occasional sun and numerous chateaus as we rode on remote roads through the beautiful forest. This stage had the first real challenging terrain of the tour as we encountered 8 categorized climbs, including the first Cat 2 of the tour. The constant headwinds and frequent rainshowers were not enough to diminish the euphoria of such a beautiful ride, and this stage will be an interesting one to watch on tv as it will likely be the first stage with some excitement and something other than a bunch sprint finish. The final Cat 3 climb of the day occurs just 5 downhill miles from the finish so there is certain to be some shakeup. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I rode this stage together while Matt went ahead at one stop and we never saw him again. A solo breakaway that stuck. Of course, his GPS showed 13km short, so perhaps he found a shortcut.... :) A troubling development began for me somewhere in the final 1/3 or so of the ride as my right quad started to pain me somewhat, but not so much that I gave it a 2nd thought. By the final Cat 3 climb near the end it was becoming quite painful, but by then my mind was on the approaching finish so I thought little of it. All told, it was a great day - 120 miles and 11,000 +/- feet of climbing, and the back has definitely improved and the collar bone is giving me little trouble.
Stage 6 - Semur-en-Auxois - Bourg-en-Bresse, 125 miles
Did I mention the wind was from the South? Well, to add insult to injury we had to drive 50 miles north to the start of stage 6, just so that we could get hammered by the same headwinds even longer. Everything that made Stage 5 enjoyable was lacking in Stage 6: the occasional sunshine, quiet roads, nice scenery, scenic categorized climbs. We started out in the cold rain, taking turns pulling into the headwind. Within 5 miles Laura had a puncture which we struggled to change with shivering hands. By 10 miles my sore right quad muscle had reappeared and I recall thinking that it was going to be a long day. By 20 miles the quad was more than an annoyance, it was legitimately painful and I was starting to clearly favor my left leg while pedaling. At this point I was happy to have skipped Stage 3 because I knew I should stop this stage at the first rest stop and this would be much harder to do if I hadn't missed a stage already. By Mile 30 I was in real trouble. I could no longer pedal with my right leg and the quad muscle was in agonizing pain from about 12 oclock to 6 oclock of the pedal stroke. At this point I just hoped to be able to make it to the van near mile 40. By Mile 35 I was in desperate straits. I had pedaled one-legged about halfway up what we thought was the Cat 4 climb at the top of which we expected the campervan to await us. However, the GPS soon showed we were off track and we had to retrace our steps. At this point I knew I was not going to make it 5 miles up a Cat 4 climb to the van, so had to call the van down the hill to come get me. Laura stopped with me at this point as well, steady cold rain and a headwind on heavily trafficked roads was not what she had in mind either. Amy, Mark, and Matt went on to persevere through the tough conditions to complete the day.
My quad is quite concerning. It starts as a general soreness near the muscle insertion with the kneecap, but gradually increases to where it feels with each pedal stroke like I'm pulling the muscle off the bone. I suspect it's related to the injury to my back sustained in my crash which is causing me to somehow or other pedal slightly differently than normal, but how have I ridden well over 400 miles thus far with no problem? The source of the pain is right under some of the deepest road rash I have, so it is possible that I damaged something in the crash itself. Regardless, this is a disappointing development as the tour is about to enter the mountains, the stretch of the tour I really want to ride.
Stage 7 - Bourg-en-Bresse - Le-Grand-Bornand, 123 miles
We're in the mountains! This stage is a gentle introduction to the mountains, as the first half of the stage is kind but ends with a Cat 1 climb up the Col de Colmbriere, a climb that by all metrics (grade, distance, and placement within stage) should be an hors categorie climb. I sat this stage out, hoping a days rest would help my quad. Amy, Laura, Matt, and Mark made good progress through the stage and every now and then the rain capes even came off when the sun would peek through. It was clear the Alps have seen an extraordinary amount of rain as the rivers and creeks throgh the valley were overflowing and small waterfalls out of the mountains were raging.
At the final rest stop, around 80 miles and in the sunshine, I decided my quad was ok and that it was a fluke in the cold wet weather of yesterday and that I would ride the final stretch with them. This stretch included a Cat 4 climb right out of the rest stop, a nice descent and flat stretch, and then the climb up the Col de Columbriere. I figured if my quad hurt immediately up the Cat 4 climb I would bail out, and if it hurt going up the Columbriere I could always call the van using Mark's phone. Well, long story short, I made it about a quarter of the way up the 4100 foot climb before the quad starting acting up. Naturally Mark and the cellphone were well up the road, so I was in it to finish, like it or not. Laura and I crawled up the 10 mile hill in our 34-27 gears, and for the last half hour or so I got in some excellent one-legged climbing work as I could not press at all with my right leg. Finally we summitted a hill that was surely steeper than the advertised 6.8% and were thrilled to see the van at the top, as at 1650 meters it was cold and we were wet and not looking forward to a freezing descent. Amy, Mark, and Matt bundled up with dry clothes and undertook the frigid descent while Laura and I bundled up and drank hot coffee!
Stage 8 - Le-Grand-Bornand - Tignes, 105 miles
This is the big alpine mountain stage, with 3 Cat 1 climbs and 16000 feet of climbing in just over 100 miles. This is what the tour is all about - up and down the toughest mountain passes the organization can find. And I get to sit it out in the van. :(
The day started as miserably as can be imagined. The rain was absolutely pouring and it couldn't have been warmer than 45 when we got up. There was talk of swapping rest days, but Amy, Matt, and Mark put on all the clothes they had (and a few donations from me!) and saddled up and started the day with a 1000 foot descent. Tough stuff! Laura joined for the 4000 foot climb over the Cormet de Roseland, which had snow at the peak. This does not bode well for the Galibier which is over 3000 feet higher. Matt had to call it a day as his legs called it quits on him and he was obviously completely spent. Mark and Amy continued on, conquering the very, very tough stage and looking quite strong, although both claim to be quite tired.
Today is a rest day and tomorrow we had planned to do the Marmotte (a race/event that climbs 4 passes including Galiber, Alpe du Huez, Croix de Fer, and has 17,000 feet of climbing in 105 miles. Mark is still considering this, but I am not, meaning I get 3 rest days to hopefully allow my quad to heal. Sunday, Stage 9, is the last day in the Alps, and is a real beauty of a stage and I would really hate to miss it. It starts with a 1000m climb up the Col d'Iseran, the highest point on the tour at nearly 3000m, and then there is a 50 mile (!!!!) descent. Then a 2000m climb up the Col d'Telegraphe and the Galibier before a 25 mile descent to the finish. This is a stage that I must do! I do hope my quad injury is not serious and 3 days rest will heal it.
That's all for now. Better descriptions and pictures are available at Mark's blog, http://letour2007live.blogspot.com/
-Kyle
It's Friday July 6, and we are enjoying our rest day in Tignes, a cozy ski village in the French Alps. We are now in the heart of the Tour and in the heart of the mountains, and the bland, heavily trafficked stages of England and Belgium seem like ancient history.
Did I make some comment in my last post about having ridden out of the worst of the cold and rain? Well, I take it back. I was fearing scorching temperatures approaching 100F, but I have learned my lesson. July in France apparently means heavy rain with temps in the upper 40s to lower 50s with strong winds from the south. Oh, and we're riding from north to south, of course.
Stage 5 - Chablis - Autun; 115 miles
Stage 5 was a 115 mile day (120+ after all of our inevitable miscues) through the Morvan National Forest, and it was absolutely stunning! Between cloudbursts there was the occasional sun and numerous chateaus as we rode on remote roads through the beautiful forest. This stage had the first real challenging terrain of the tour as we encountered 8 categorized climbs, including the first Cat 2 of the tour. The constant headwinds and frequent rainshowers were not enough to diminish the euphoria of such a beautiful ride, and this stage will be an interesting one to watch on tv as it will likely be the first stage with some excitement and something other than a bunch sprint finish. The final Cat 3 climb of the day occurs just 5 downhill miles from the finish so there is certain to be some shakeup. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I rode this stage together while Matt went ahead at one stop and we never saw him again. A solo breakaway that stuck. Of course, his GPS showed 13km short, so perhaps he found a shortcut.... :) A troubling development began for me somewhere in the final 1/3 or so of the ride as my right quad started to pain me somewhat, but not so much that I gave it a 2nd thought. By the final Cat 3 climb near the end it was becoming quite painful, but by then my mind was on the approaching finish so I thought little of it. All told, it was a great day - 120 miles and 11,000 +/- feet of climbing, and the back has definitely improved and the collar bone is giving me little trouble.
Stage 6 - Semur-en-Auxois - Bourg-en-Bresse, 125 miles
Did I mention the wind was from the South? Well, to add insult to injury we had to drive 50 miles north to the start of stage 6, just so that we could get hammered by the same headwinds even longer. Everything that made Stage 5 enjoyable was lacking in Stage 6: the occasional sunshine, quiet roads, nice scenery, scenic categorized climbs. We started out in the cold rain, taking turns pulling into the headwind. Within 5 miles Laura had a puncture which we struggled to change with shivering hands. By 10 miles my sore right quad muscle had reappeared and I recall thinking that it was going to be a long day. By 20 miles the quad was more than an annoyance, it was legitimately painful and I was starting to clearly favor my left leg while pedaling. At this point I was happy to have skipped Stage 3 because I knew I should stop this stage at the first rest stop and this would be much harder to do if I hadn't missed a stage already. By Mile 30 I was in real trouble. I could no longer pedal with my right leg and the quad muscle was in agonizing pain from about 12 oclock to 6 oclock of the pedal stroke. At this point I just hoped to be able to make it to the van near mile 40. By Mile 35 I was in desperate straits. I had pedaled one-legged about halfway up what we thought was the Cat 4 climb at the top of which we expected the campervan to await us. However, the GPS soon showed we were off track and we had to retrace our steps. At this point I knew I was not going to make it 5 miles up a Cat 4 climb to the van, so had to call the van down the hill to come get me. Laura stopped with me at this point as well, steady cold rain and a headwind on heavily trafficked roads was not what she had in mind either. Amy, Mark, and Matt went on to persevere through the tough conditions to complete the day.
My quad is quite concerning. It starts as a general soreness near the muscle insertion with the kneecap, but gradually increases to where it feels with each pedal stroke like I'm pulling the muscle off the bone. I suspect it's related to the injury to my back sustained in my crash which is causing me to somehow or other pedal slightly differently than normal, but how have I ridden well over 400 miles thus far with no problem? The source of the pain is right under some of the deepest road rash I have, so it is possible that I damaged something in the crash itself. Regardless, this is a disappointing development as the tour is about to enter the mountains, the stretch of the tour I really want to ride.
Stage 7 - Bourg-en-Bresse - Le-Grand-Bornand, 123 miles
We're in the mountains! This stage is a gentle introduction to the mountains, as the first half of the stage is kind but ends with a Cat 1 climb up the Col de Colmbriere, a climb that by all metrics (grade, distance, and placement within stage) should be an hors categorie climb. I sat this stage out, hoping a days rest would help my quad. Amy, Laura, Matt, and Mark made good progress through the stage and every now and then the rain capes even came off when the sun would peek through. It was clear the Alps have seen an extraordinary amount of rain as the rivers and creeks throgh the valley were overflowing and small waterfalls out of the mountains were raging.
At the final rest stop, around 80 miles and in the sunshine, I decided my quad was ok and that it was a fluke in the cold wet weather of yesterday and that I would ride the final stretch with them. This stretch included a Cat 4 climb right out of the rest stop, a nice descent and flat stretch, and then the climb up the Col de Columbriere. I figured if my quad hurt immediately up the Cat 4 climb I would bail out, and if it hurt going up the Columbriere I could always call the van using Mark's phone. Well, long story short, I made it about a quarter of the way up the 4100 foot climb before the quad starting acting up. Naturally Mark and the cellphone were well up the road, so I was in it to finish, like it or not. Laura and I crawled up the 10 mile hill in our 34-27 gears, and for the last half hour or so I got in some excellent one-legged climbing work as I could not press at all with my right leg. Finally we summitted a hill that was surely steeper than the advertised 6.8% and were thrilled to see the van at the top, as at 1650 meters it was cold and we were wet and not looking forward to a freezing descent. Amy, Mark, and Matt bundled up with dry clothes and undertook the frigid descent while Laura and I bundled up and drank hot coffee!
Stage 8 - Le-Grand-Bornand - Tignes, 105 miles
This is the big alpine mountain stage, with 3 Cat 1 climbs and 16000 feet of climbing in just over 100 miles. This is what the tour is all about - up and down the toughest mountain passes the organization can find. And I get to sit it out in the van. :(
The day started as miserably as can be imagined. The rain was absolutely pouring and it couldn't have been warmer than 45 when we got up. There was talk of swapping rest days, but Amy, Matt, and Mark put on all the clothes they had (and a few donations from me!) and saddled up and started the day with a 1000 foot descent. Tough stuff! Laura joined for the 4000 foot climb over the Cormet de Roseland, which had snow at the peak. This does not bode well for the Galibier which is over 3000 feet higher. Matt had to call it a day as his legs called it quits on him and he was obviously completely spent. Mark and Amy continued on, conquering the very, very tough stage and looking quite strong, although both claim to be quite tired.
Today is a rest day and tomorrow we had planned to do the Marmotte (a race/event that climbs 4 passes including Galiber, Alpe du Huez, Croix de Fer, and has 17,000 feet of climbing in 105 miles. Mark is still considering this, but I am not, meaning I get 3 rest days to hopefully allow my quad to heal. Sunday, Stage 9, is the last day in the Alps, and is a real beauty of a stage and I would really hate to miss it. It starts with a 1000m climb up the Col d'Iseran, the highest point on the tour at nearly 3000m, and then there is a 50 mile (!!!!) descent. Then a 2000m climb up the Col d'Telegraphe and the Galibier before a 25 mile descent to the finish. This is a stage that I must do! I do hope my quad injury is not serious and 3 days rest will heal it.
That's all for now. Better descriptions and pictures are available at Mark's blog, http://letour2007live.blogspot.com/
-Kyle
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Le Tour 2007 - Stages Prologue through Stage 4
Pictures at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyleyost/sets/72157600685944637/
Time and bandwidth are in short supply, but a quick update.
I've decided to try and ride through the broken collarbone and various other ailments and have successfully ridden the prologue and stages 1,2, and 4 - wisely, I think, taking a pass on Stage 3. The collarbone has not been giving me serious problems - I just need to make sure I don't go down again. The back is making life hard, both on and off the bike, but is definitely improving. I finally had a good nights sleep last night! And, now the road rash injuries are the worst of all - nasty messes those things. How I'm going to keep them out of the sun the next weeks I have no idea. Days are long. There is little time to do anything post-stage but clean up, eat, transfer to following day start and go to sleep.
Here's a summary of the week written for Mark's blog: http://letour2007live.blogspot.com/. As we have very limited bandwidth, only his site will have any pictures, and his site will likely be updated with content much more frequently, so check there for latest updates. Amy also has a site at http://amsadventures.blogspot.com/.
Update 7/1/2007
Today was an outstanding day of riding – definitely what I had in mind when I pictured riding in France and a far cry from the stages in England and Belgium. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I worked well together into a steady head and crosswind for the 125 mile stage, and the roads were remote, scenic, in excellent condition - and we passed more than a few sunflower seeds with the sunflowers in full bloom – an awesome sight! Other than stage 2 in Belgium, little is actually flat as both Stage 1 (122 miles) and today (125 miles) have had over 6000 feet of climbing. Certainly not bad, but not exactly pancake flat either. Tomorrow the real climbing starts with Stage 5. Although not a true mountain stage, tomorrow’s stage is considered the toughest outside of the mountains at 125 miles with four Cat 4 climbs, three Cat 3, and a Cat 2 climb which is a 3000 foot ascent over Haut Folin. This should be our first real sampling of just how bad the climbing will be. The little Cat 4’s we’ve encountered so far and which have only been thrown in to distribute some minor King of Mountain points and give someone the jersey for the early stages certainly have seemed like “proper climbs” to me. I fear the real mountains may be a bit more than I’ve anticipated.
For those wondering about my injuries and my crash. I decided on Wednesday that I could ride one-handed and at least manage the 5 mile prologue. The thought of missing this epic stage in London was too much for me. Well, this stubborn idea was a bad one, but luckily it worked out with no crashed or further damage done, but riding one handed in rush hour London traffic in a downpour navigating buses and taxis driving on the wrong side of the road was not on the agenda. So, like it or not I was forced to really test the back and broken collar bone on the bike, and surprisingly it wasn’t such a problem. I could hold the bars and brake and shift without pain, but my back was the biggest problem. I survived the prologue and figured I’d start the 127 mile stage out of London the next day and see how it felt. It was tough and I was in a good deal of pain and any bump or crack in the road was to be avoided or the impact absorbed with the legs, but I got through the day. I held up the group a bit and was in a world of hurt by the end, but I got through it. Stage 2, a 110 mile slog in Belgium was simply miserable. Cold, 30+ mph winds and a steady rain made for a miserable day as I had no booties or long-fingered gloves. And the roads chosen for the stage may have been fine when closed for the 200 person peloton, but for a group of 4 it was not fun as we were primarily on shoulders of major roads with trucks and cars flying past. One of our Tour magazines gave the stage a 2/10 scenic rating, but with a caveat: 0/10 if it’s raining. Well, it was cold, windy, and pouring. Not fun, and the day ended with my 2nd puncture of the ride. We’d more than covered the stage distance (having ridden from the campsite to the start) and just called the van to us to end the day. I decided it may be prudent to skip Stage 3 as my back gave me great difficulties on the first 2 stages and was preventing me from sleeping nights. I still needed assistance getting on and off the bike and out of bed and in/out of the campervan, etc… and the 148 mile stage looked to be on more heavily trafficked miserable roads and the thought of bumping and bouncing around for that duration seemed a poor means to help the back heal. And, as Laura was arriving that day and the campervan needed to be diverted to Brussels to pick her up, I jumped at the excuse to skip the unappealing day in the saddle. The choice turned out to be a prudent one as my back improved nicely with a day off the bike.
It’s been one week since my crash and Stage 5 is tomorrow. I am far from being back to my old self on the bike, but I’m far better off today than earlier in the week. The collar bone is giving me surprisingly little trouble and pain (aside from the occasional jolt of pain on some bumps), and the back seems now to be mending quickly. I still cannot generate much power and cannot get out of the saddle, but the improvements are noticeable by the day and I hope to be at full power by the mountains next week. Today was the first day where I felt like I was riding and not just somehow or other forcing the pedals around. Thanks for all the well wishes and I plan to keep the rubber side down from here on out! Wish me luck!
Time and bandwidth are in short supply, but a quick update.
I've decided to try and ride through the broken collarbone and various other ailments and have successfully ridden the prologue and stages 1,2, and 4 - wisely, I think, taking a pass on Stage 3. The collarbone has not been giving me serious problems - I just need to make sure I don't go down again. The back is making life hard, both on and off the bike, but is definitely improving. I finally had a good nights sleep last night! And, now the road rash injuries are the worst of all - nasty messes those things. How I'm going to keep them out of the sun the next weeks I have no idea. Days are long. There is little time to do anything post-stage but clean up, eat, transfer to following day start and go to sleep.
Here's a summary of the week written for Mark's blog: http://letour2007live.blogspot.com/. As we have very limited bandwidth, only his site will have any pictures, and his site will likely be updated with content much more frequently, so check there for latest updates. Amy also has a site at http://amsadventures.blogspot.com/.
Update 7/1/2007
Today was an outstanding day of riding – definitely what I had in mind when I pictured riding in France and a far cry from the stages in England and Belgium. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I worked well together into a steady head and crosswind for the 125 mile stage, and the roads were remote, scenic, in excellent condition - and we passed more than a few sunflower seeds with the sunflowers in full bloom – an awesome sight! Other than stage 2 in Belgium, little is actually flat as both Stage 1 (122 miles) and today (125 miles) have had over 6000 feet of climbing. Certainly not bad, but not exactly pancake flat either. Tomorrow the real climbing starts with Stage 5. Although not a true mountain stage, tomorrow’s stage is considered the toughest outside of the mountains at 125 miles with four Cat 4 climbs, three Cat 3, and a Cat 2 climb which is a 3000 foot ascent over Haut Folin. This should be our first real sampling of just how bad the climbing will be. The little Cat 4’s we’ve encountered so far and which have only been thrown in to distribute some minor King of Mountain points and give someone the jersey for the early stages certainly have seemed like “proper climbs” to me. I fear the real mountains may be a bit more than I’ve anticipated.
For those wondering about my injuries and my crash. I decided on Wednesday that I could ride one-handed and at least manage the 5 mile prologue. The thought of missing this epic stage in London was too much for me. Well, this stubborn idea was a bad one, but luckily it worked out with no crashed or further damage done, but riding one handed in rush hour London traffic in a downpour navigating buses and taxis driving on the wrong side of the road was not on the agenda. So, like it or not I was forced to really test the back and broken collar bone on the bike, and surprisingly it wasn’t such a problem. I could hold the bars and brake and shift without pain, but my back was the biggest problem. I survived the prologue and figured I’d start the 127 mile stage out of London the next day and see how it felt. It was tough and I was in a good deal of pain and any bump or crack in the road was to be avoided or the impact absorbed with the legs, but I got through the day. I held up the group a bit and was in a world of hurt by the end, but I got through it. Stage 2, a 110 mile slog in Belgium was simply miserable. Cold, 30+ mph winds and a steady rain made for a miserable day as I had no booties or long-fingered gloves. And the roads chosen for the stage may have been fine when closed for the 200 person peloton, but for a group of 4 it was not fun as we were primarily on shoulders of major roads with trucks and cars flying past. One of our Tour magazines gave the stage a 2/10 scenic rating, but with a caveat: 0/10 if it’s raining. Well, it was cold, windy, and pouring. Not fun, and the day ended with my 2nd puncture of the ride. We’d more than covered the stage distance (having ridden from the campsite to the start) and just called the van to us to end the day. I decided it may be prudent to skip Stage 3 as my back gave me great difficulties on the first 2 stages and was preventing me from sleeping nights. I still needed assistance getting on and off the bike and out of bed and in/out of the campervan, etc… and the 148 mile stage looked to be on more heavily trafficked miserable roads and the thought of bumping and bouncing around for that duration seemed a poor means to help the back heal. And, as Laura was arriving that day and the campervan needed to be diverted to Brussels to pick her up, I jumped at the excuse to skip the unappealing day in the saddle. The choice turned out to be a prudent one as my back improved nicely with a day off the bike.
It’s been one week since my crash and Stage 5 is tomorrow. I am far from being back to my old self on the bike, but I’m far better off today than earlier in the week. The collar bone is giving me surprisingly little trouble and pain (aside from the occasional jolt of pain on some bumps), and the back seems now to be mending quickly. I still cannot generate much power and cannot get out of the saddle, but the improvements are noticeable by the day and I hope to be at full power by the mountains next week. Today was the first day where I felt like I was riding and not just somehow or other forcing the pedals around. Thanks for all the well wishes and I plan to keep the rubber side down from here on out! Wish me luck!
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
LeTour 2007 - Preparation
My athletic goal of 2007 is to ride the entire Tour de France stage-by-stage exactly as the pros do. A group of 4 friends will attempt this, with details at http://www.letour2007.com/ and ongoing blog of progress throughout at http://letour2007latest.blogspot.com/.
Through the winter and all spring my training has gone according to plan - or lack of plan that is. More or less the training plan was to ride as frequently as I could, and I got in many long weekend rides but not as many total miles as I might have preferred. Over Memorial Day weekend, Laura and I gave ourselves a litmus test with the Mountains of Misery double metric in Blacksburg, Va. The 128 mile ride included over 13,000 feet of climbing and ended with a 4 mile 12% average climb, a very worthy Tour-esque climb. All told this one day would be similar to many of the stages of the Tour de France, so if this day was a struggle we knew we were in trouble. Laura was trying her new Cervelo R3 and we decided we'd ride as easy as need be to get through the day comfortably. The day was a success as the 128 miles went by quickly and the four major climbs were not as terrible as advertised or feared. And, in the end, Laura ended up 2nd female in the double metric, although it is not officially a race and results are certainly suspect.
Serious training culminated in a week at Deep Creek Lake, during which I put in nearly 400 miles in the mountains. It was a great week of great training and reassured me that indeed it was possible that I might get through the TdF if I managed to keep healthy. Friends came out as the week progressed and joined us on the big Thursday and Saturday 110 mile rides. And, the best part of the week was that Laura and I got engaged at the end of the Saturday ride! What a great week.
Soon after the celebration and it's off to Europe, and nothing seems to go smoothly. Complications start all the way back in DC when my flight sits for 2 hours on the tarmac as the plane needs to be "rebooted" multiple times before it is cleared. This causes me to miss my connection in Toronto, resulting in a 10 hour layover. Partly due to my late arrival in London we decide to cancel our planned trip to Scotland for the Etape de Caledonia, so we have a few extra days in Nottingham to relax and train and prepare for the tour. No big deal, although I had been looking forward to seeing my old friend Mike Kennedy from the Tour d'Afrique 2003.
And then, disaster strikes. On Sunday afternoon, Mark and I are out for a short spin-the-legs ride when I am leading down a steep hill and a cat darts in front of my bike and I hit it before there is any chance to react. At 37mph I go down instantly and hard, breaking my collar bone, my helmet (but not my head inside it), and bounce, somersault, and roll to a stop. Mark, who was following and saw it all in vivid detail has written a summary of the experience here, and many thanks to Mark for all the help and taking such good care of me. Pictures of the aftermath here. Before the prologue even begins my tour is over. Wow, I can't believe it. Hopefully the muscle soreness and aches and pains will ease and I'll be left with no ill effects other than a broken collar bone and can possibly ride some of the stages later on.
Laura is arriving on Saturday to ride stages 4 - 9, and I'm sure she'll conquer the Alps with ease, so hopefully I can join for some of the fun!
Ongoing blog updates will be available at http://letour2007latest.blogspot.com/
Friday, August 18, 2006
2006 Ironman Lake Placid
| Event | Time | Rank OA (of 2160) | Rank AG (of 418) |
| Swim | 1:05:10 | 418 | 104 |
| T1 | 6:00 | 239 | 55 |
| Start Bike | 1:11:10 | 360 | 86 |
| Bike | 5:20:16 | 34 | 2 |
| T2 | 2:42 | 129 | 32 |
| Start Run | 6:34:08 | 57 | 10 |
| Run | 3:41:24 | 153 | 36 |
| Overall | 10:15:30 | 87 | 18 |
Warm-Up
What am I doing back in Lake Placid for the Ironman? In 2002 I thought I'd try an Ironman and intended to be "one and done" with that distance. That race didn't work out as planned, so I tried again at Lake Placid in 2004. Once again, the race didn't go as planned. Stubborn or stupid - take your pick - but here I am on the morning of July 23 having another go at it in 2006.
With respectable times of 11:27 and 11:14 under my belt it's somewhat difficult to explain to people that I'm at it again because I feel like Ironman has beaten me. While I've completed the distance, in both races I blew up on the run, with the marathon changing from a run to an exercise in survival as I fought cramps and stomach issues from the early miles on. So, although I have two Ironman finishers medals, I felt like I had not conquered Ironman, but rather, it had gotten the best of me.
With these two humbling experiences behind me, I went into the 2006 Lake Placid event with just one primary goal in mind, and that was to hold up on the run, to not have the marathon turn into a shuffle-walk battle just to get from one porta-potty to the next. I knew that if I managed to run the marathon, even if at just a slow trot, that my overall time would be solid and certainly under 11 hours. Deep down I knew that I was capable of actually running the run and that it was possible I could get down to the 10:20 ballpark which historically would put me on the bubble for a Kona spot for the 35-39 age group.
After analyzing my two prior experiences I came to a conclusion of what I had done wrong. First that I was consuming too many calories on the bike, and while it didn't create any issues for me on the bike, the symptoms were appearing early in the run after my stomach had essentially shut itself down. As a big guy with a pretty big engine on the bike I had always assumed I needed more fuel than the little guys. But, in researching the symptoms of my blow-ups and analyzing my caloric intake in those events, I concluded that the 450-500+ calories per hour I was consuming was the likely cause of my stomach distress. So, during training I experimented by decreasing my calories per hour until it was clear I was deprived and had bonked. I found that I had no energy issues until I got down to below 250 kcal/hr, so in training and racing I settled on 300-325 kcal / hr and never encountered any low energy problems.
The second conclusion that I came to was that my cramping was primarily due to dehydration. It occured to me while riding in Spain this spring that other riders needed to stop and pee frequently while riding and I virtually never felt that need. And, never during a race had I needed to go, while others were discussing whether they pull over and hit the woods or just go right on their bikes, a dilemma I'd never needed to worry myself about. I've always been a very heavy sweater, and while I've always thought I've been drinking adequate amounts of water, I now concluded that I was actually dehydrating myself and was hopeful that was the root cause of my chronic cramping problems.
Based on these conclusions I decided that in training and races in preparation for Lake Placid that I would consume a steady 300 kcal per hour of liquid fuel and augment that with however much water it took such that I felt the need to urinate during the bike leg. I tested this approach with success at the Mooseman 1/2 Ironman in June. I had no energy issues on the bike at my lower caloric intake, and had to pee during a race for the first time ever late in the bike leg. But the best part was that my running legs felt good and not once during the run did I have any stomach issues or feel any cramps coming on. This bode well for Lake Placid, but I had still had doubts whether I had my problems figured out as in 2004 I had managed a sub 4:30 1/2 IM with a 1:28 half marathon, so a successful tune-up 1/2 IM with a good half marathon proved to be no guarantee of running success at the Ironman.
Nonetheless, it was with this new approach of eat-less and drink-more that I went into Lake Placid confident that I could finally conquer this distance.
The Race
As in 2004, I went into Lake Placid healthy and fit - particularly on the bike. I'd spent a month on my bike in Europe in March, had done a week of intense training in the mountains in June, and had numerous quality, long rides under my belt. My running had gotten a late start due to calf and achilles issues through the winter and spring, but due to my solid biking fitness I had been able to step up the distances pretty quickly and was running well and had gotten in lots of long runs and bricks in the final two months leading up to the race. I even had some secret hopes for a swim near an hour as my swim workouts had been showing good progress. So, just like in 2004 I toed the starting line healthy and very fit and confident I was capable of a good day.
Swim
The swim was entirely unpleasant. For an entire 65 minutes I got hit, kicked, and never found a comfortable swimming rhythm. I don't know if it was due to the 300 additional people that started the race than in 2004 or if it was because the kayakers prevented us from going as far left of the buoys as I recall going in 2004 to find open water, but whatever the cause this swim was too crowded and never eased up, not even on the second loop. I felt fine and tried to remain calm, but I did not enjoy one second of the swim. One conclusion I've come to is that in a race this dense you have essentially determined your swim fate by 5 minutes into the swim. After that point you are pretty well stuck at the pace of the masses you are with. At times I felt like I was swimming too slowly, but there was no way to find any clear water to swim past the masses around me, and the people around me weren't swimming so much more slowly than I wanted to go that I could, or would, just swim right over and through them. This year, my mantra throughout the race was to be patient until the marathon, but I do wish I had taken it out a bit harder the first five or so minutes of the swim to put myself a bit further up the field before everyone settled in. But, after all, what's a few minutes here and there in an Ironman? Ha, I'll find that out soon enough.
I exited the swim in 65:10 for 464th overall and 104th in the age group, about 50 seconds slower than 2004.
Bike
I felt phenomenal early in the bike and had to work very hard to remain patient and not worry about the people passing me. Two years ago I had a great bike split and had thought I felt comfortable, but after considering my run blow-up and that I had the 47th fastest split of the day, I had concluded that I had biked too hard and must take it a little easier this time around.
Leaving transition I saw my always reliable bike computer had chosen this moment to cease operation, so I was going to be doing this ride completely by feel. Early on I worried I was perhaps taking it too easy as plenty of folks were passing me, but I kept repeating my mantra of taking it easy until the run. On the fast, wet, and treacherous descent into Keane I heard a thud next to me and looked over and saw one of my two bottles full of my calories skidding along on the road beside me. I didn't even hit a bump, how did I throw a bottle?!? It turns out a bolt had broken and my cage had flipped around and was now pointing down. Luckily I had a backup gel flask with me so my entire nutrition strategy was not sliding along the road at 52mph beside me in that water bottle, but the loss of a bottle cage did screw up my plan to take a bottle of water at each aid station and drink it between aid stations. No worries, I could always do like the Tour de France riders and find some space down the back of my jersey or shorts, or I could just try to swig down the entire water bottle during the length of an aid station and immediately discard it, which is mostly what I ended up doing.
The first loop was very, very easy and quite enjoyable for the most part. The amount of blatant, intentional drafting that I saw was really very disappointing. I realize that when you swim 65 minutes there are going to be lots and lots of cyclists around and it's going to be hard to avoid some unintentional drafting early in the bike leg. But, there were some large, dense packs of riders, and on one occasion I got passed by a group of 5 riders in a rotating paceline, something I had never seen in a race before. I tried not to get worked up by this and to race my own race, but I did bark a few choice words to some of the worst offenders at times, and on the 2nd loop when things had thinned out and I passed many of these riders back I voiced my opinion a few times with comments like: "A little harder when you don't have a wheel to suck, huh?" or "Awww, too bad, looks like your peloton shattered, tough to be on your own, isn't it?" Immature, yes, but it just pisses me off to see this blatant cheating. I mean, if you're going to cheat, why not just cut off part of the bike course or hand your chip to someone to do the run for you. Really, what's the difference? Ironman tried a new approach of on-the-course penalty enforcement this year, so there were four penalty boxes on the loop where you had to stop and wait for four minutes if you had been tagged by a marshall for drafting. This process is fine in theory, but I saw a lot of drafting going on, and not once did I see anyone who had been caught waiting out their penalty in the box.
Back to the race. The first loop was effortless and the day was turning into a perfect day for racing as the early rain had cleared and clear skies were starting to break through the clouds and the temperature remained cool. I checked the race time as I finished the first loop and calculated my loop time to be 2:35. Yikes, that's identical to 2004 and I was trying to ratchet it back on the bike this time around. But, I was riding by feel and I felt great, so I continued at the same effort. The 2nd loop was eventless; I felt great and I was peeing regularly, so clearly my hydration strategy was working. And, yes, I was peeing while still on the bike, can't waste any time by stopping! By the last ten mile climb I was starting to feel ready to get off the bike, but the legs were not tired, nor did they feel like cramping was imminent like in 2004. At this point there are few cyclists in sight on the road, and at one point I looked down at my rear disc wheel because it was making some godawful screeching noise and I was worried the entire wheel was going to fly apart or something tragic (in hindsight I think the noise was my broken bottle cage rubbing against my CO2 canister, though it sure sounded worse than that). Lo and behold, what do I see when I look back at my wheel, but someone elses front wheel about one inch off my rear wheel. Someone I had passed miles back had decided to latch on for a free ride back to town. Pissed off once again, I pull left, slow down and ask if he could possibly get any closer. His response: "It's alright. I'll share. You want me to pull for awhile?" "It's alright!!" He actually said that to me as he drafted off of me, acting as if he's surprised that I'm pissed off. Seriously, is this standard operating procedure for the folks racing on the Kona bubble? Infuriating.
I finished the bike in 5:20:16, 21mph, 34th fastest of the day (28 pros in race), and 2nd fastest in my age group, and 1:22 faster than 2004. I'm still in disbelief of that result as the bike felt easy all day and I had to force myself to hold back for the run. Did I go too fast? Should I have gone harder and stolen a few more minutes with what has clearly become my strength? It's so hard to know in an Ironman.
Run
I started the run in 57th overall and 10th in my age group (11 Kona slots), although I didn't know that at the time. What I did know was that I was having a virtually identical race to 2004. In 2004 I swam :64 and biked 5:21 (2:35, 2:46 loops), and now I had just swum :65 and biked 5:20 (2:35, 2:45 loops). Indeed, my transitions were nearly identical as well, and I started the run a whopping 29 seconds ahead of my time in 2004. I recollect thinking as I started the run that it was deja vu all over again, and that I would be seriously dejected if the marathon also turned out the same as 2004.
My legs felt a bit heavy, but all in all I felt pretty good starting the run. I settled into a comfortable pace and reminded myself to be patient when someone in my age group flew past me in the first mile. My marathon plan was 250 kcal/hr of gel and a few cups of water at every aid station. I made it to the first turnaround at mile 5.6 and the legs still felt good and no stomach issues brewing. A milestone! By this point in 2004 I had already cramped up and vomitted and hit the porta-potties. I was just under 41 minutes at the 5.6 turnaround, comfortable at about 7:30 per mile, a bit faster than I expected to be able to maintain, but it felt good and I was being passed more than I was passing so I proceeded running by effort and tried to not worry about time or position.
Then Mile 8 came. Maybe I had fallen behind on my gel consumption, or maybe I just needed more calories than I had expected, but I started to bonk right as we got to the hills on the return trek. Luckily too few calories is easily rectifiable whereas too many is not, so I took a large swig of gel and went on a major shopping spree at the next aid station, and before too long I had my energy back. But, I did not have my legs back. Whether it was the hills, the bonk, or it was just time to start feeling it, I realized somewhere around Mile 8-9 that the marathon wasn't going to forever remain as easy as it been the first 8 miles. Those sub-7:30 miles became 8 minutes became 8:30. I got back to town, struggled up the hill, and finished the first loop in 1:42:47.
However, I now had 13 miles yet to go and I was already in survival mode. But my feared stomach and cramping problems had not presented themselves, so I was still running, with my legs being the only limiting factor. I had always figured that even with tired legs I could manage 8 minute miles, but due to the cramping and stomach issues had never been able to test that. Well, now I was learning that I may have been a bit optimistic and my dead-leg shuffle is closer to 9 minute miles. Nonetheless, that still counts as running, and for the next 13 miles I gut-checked it at my agonizing 9 minute mile shuffle just trying to get to the next milestone: the bend in the road ahead, the next mile marker, the next aid station, the lightpost up ahead, the turnaround, catch John Mead, catch Haig, .... It was a long time to operate in survival mode, and I spent longer and longer at each aid station and walked about half of each of the two big hills, but more or less I held it together the entire second loop.
One nice thing about a two loop course with two out-and-backs per loop is that you get to see a lot of people, and I definitely got boosts during this agonizing stretch from all the folks out there I knew: Ted, Tom, Schwartz, Haig, Jenni Banks, Jeff Emmons, all the Team Zers, Laura, and great spectators: my folks, Brady, Tara, Bruce, Libby, Vaughn. And it was definitely great to wear the TeamZ colors as they had hundreds of fans cheering with endless energy! When you're struggling just to get one foot in front of the other, knowing all those other racers out on the course and having so many great spectators makes a huge difference!
I pushed it with everything I had all the way until I was on the finishing oval. Now I wanted to savor the finish and just cruise home enjoying the moment, but at 10:15 I figured I was on the bubble for a Hawaii spot so I looked back to make sure I wasn't about to be passed right before the line. Sure enough, there was someone eyeing me up and looking to make a late move past me. 140.5 miles complete and no chance to cruise in and enjoy the final 0.1; I had to hustle it around the oval and all the way through to the finish. It turns out the guy was indeed in my age group but it would have had no bearing on Kona anyway had he passed me.
I was absolutely spent when I crossed the line. I had left everything I had on the course and had finally conquered the Ironman distance. I ended up 87th overall and 18th in the age group with a 10:15:30. My run split was 3:41:24, good for 153rd overall and 36th in the AG, and a fantastic improvement over the 4:40:10 of 2004.
Post-race
I was completely wiped out, but for the first time I did not need the medical tent or an IV. I recovered pretty quickly and stuck around the finish and the TeamZ cheering area all the way until the midnight finish party, another first for me. It was great to watch so many people I knew completing the race, and for many of them it was their first Ironman. Incredible!
My 10:15 finish time would have been fast enough to get a slot in M35-39 every previous year. My age group place of 18th would have gotten a slot in every previous year except 2005. But, not so in 2006. There were only 11 slots (of 418 M35-39 starters) and these slots only went as deep as 13th place, who finished in 10:09:33, a bit less than 6 minutes ahead of me. The number of participants at Lake Placid is increasing every year, but they have decreased the total number of Kona slots for the race from 100 to 80 to 72, so it is getting harder and harder to qualify. But, that's part of the appeal; if it were easy it wouldn't be as meaningful.
While I was pleased that I held up well on the run and actually ran the marathon this time and managed a respectable 3:41, a post mortem reveals that I lost my ticket to Hawaii on the run. I started the run in 10th and fell to 18th by the finish. I passed only two who started the run ahead of me, but got passed by ten. Indeed, I remember during the rough patch I hit between miles 8 and 10 a parade of six straight in my age group rolling past. Clearly these people were racing each other and knew they were racing for Hawaii while I was focused on racing my own race.
Warm-Down
As time passes I remain thrilled with my effort. I'm ecstatic that I finally conquered the distance and figured out my stomach and cramping problems. And I still find it hard to believe that I went 10:15 on a very difficult Ironman course.
But, I'm also starting to wonder if it's more than bad luck that I always seem to be a just-missed guy. Am I chronically unlucky or just not good enough or simply not tough enough when it counts? In high school I never made the state championships in track and xc, though by all metrics I was fast enough that I should have managed it. In college I surprised myself by coming painfully close to the NCAA Championships qualifying time, but never managed to get over the barrier. And now I miss Kona by the skin of my teeth in a time that would have been good enough any other year.
Surely I could have managed six minutes faster. How did all those guys outrun me? I'm a runner and I don't have the cramping or stomach excuse this time, yet I got run down. There's no holding back on the run; couldn't I have stuck with the guys in my age group when they passed me? Did I really need to walk half of the last two big hills or spend so much time at the aid stations? Why couldn't I manage at least a 3:35 marathon like the rest of the contenders? Was I just not mentally tough enough on the run? Did I bike too hard? Did I do too much bike training and not enough running? And, just think if I could only learn to swim just a few minutes faster! Oh, so much to ponder as I watch the Kona broadcast on TV once again this year.
So I planned to be one and done with the Ironman distance. It took me three tries until I got it right, so it's time to be done with this distance. But now I find myself within spitting distance of qualifying for Kona. What to do, what to do......
My flickr photo album of the day can be accessed here. Many thanks to Dan Hicok who took many of these photos and was the official photographer for TeamZ. His entire portfolio from the long day at Lake Placid can be accessed here.
