RACE RECAP: UCI 1.2 PEVELOISE

I first want to say thanks for all the care, support, and comments during this crazy time in Europe with my injury and all! I can’t convey enough how much it means and helps with recovery. But here is a little recap of the whole situation since I’ve had plenty of time in the hospital to crank out a summary. 

It began the same as any other race day morning routine. This time the start of the race took place in Pont a Marcq, France about an hour’s drive from the team house in Oostkamp, Belgium. After munching on a bit of breakfast, putting the race bags in the van, and piling into the caravan car, the team was off to the neighboring country. It was a bit of a dreary morning with overcast skies and a cool temperature. After a seemingly quick trip, we found our parking spot close to the start line and the team made its way into a nearby magazine/bar/coffee shop. We hung out for an hour or so chit chatting over a few espressos and the laughter and banter of the local bar folk. Shortly after sitting down, the rain made its presence streaking across the store front windows and the pavement began to glisten. Everyone seemed to grasp their espresso cup just a bit tighter and other riders began to trickle in seeking refuge from the light mist. Once we warmed the spirits with caffeine we made our way back to the team van to dress for the race and discuss tactics for the day.

Since it began raining, on what was supposed to be a sunny and beautiful day, the race director made the decision to cut out the initial seven laps. Each of the beginning laps threatened riders with oil covered cobbled sectors which he deemed unnecessary. Instead, the race would be 15 laps of a shorter circuit totaling just over 180 km for the day, the minimum for a UCI 1.2. Okay, nothing to crazy. It kind of put a question mark on what other teams might do so we decided just sticking toward the front and maintaining position, as a team, would be best. We were soon together at the start line after posing for the cameras at sign in and were off mimicking each move of the lead cars bumper through town. 

The pace seemed to be a bit mellower this time around as I think the rain soaked roads were a bit intimidating to the majority of the pack. Still, attacks flung off the front and our team was doing well staying in close proximity to each other and the front bulb of the peloton. Unfortunately, the “nothing crazy” part was about to close in on me. Only 15 km into the course we approached a slight S curve where the concrete shimmered with a layer of beaded water unable to drain into any cracks or crevasses of aggregate. Gingerly cruising through the intersection I was upright one moment and instantly on my right hip the next. My bike had slipped out from under me like a magician pulling a table cloth from under light china. Only this time the light china had broken and scattered on the floor. I attempted to sit up but knew something wasn’t right. Instead, I curled up in a ball hoping nobody else would slide into me. Just a few seconds after hitting the deck, my director (Bernard Moerman) was hovering over me as he was car two in the caravan. Again, I tried rolling over to my back, with his assistance, and instantly knew I had broken something near my hip as my leg didn’t want to roll with the rest of my body. I quickly supported my lifeless right leg and Bernard propped a rain bag under my knee. He strategically parked his car on one side of me and directed traffic on the other while providing an adequate amount of moral support. Always ensuring that everything was going to be okay and that an ambulance was on its way I laid in extreme discomfort. Every few minutes a new face would appear in the cloudy canvas I was staring at and rattled off several questions in French. Really wishing I could remember my High School French lessons I was only able to reply with a, “Je ne suis pas, Je ne parle pas francais, Je suis Americain”! Thank goodness Bernard knows quite a bit more French than I and was able to translate everything for me. After what seemed an eternity, an ambulance skirted by and began an assessment of the situation and my condition. Quickly learning the health care system in France the initial ambulance that arrived was unable to take me anywhere since there was no doctor on board given my serious condition. I had to wait for a second ambulance to scurry over, which also carried a doctor, who could administer drugs and aid in admitting me into the hospital. Another eternity later the ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance and the white coats were soon transporting me to a nearby hospital in the suburbs of Lille, France.

It was a pretty painless trip to the emergency room since the morphine was quickly flowing through a 16 gauge needle (not sure of actual size but it was huuuge), which I’m pretty sure is going to leave a nice hole and scar in my hand. Once I was carted into the small white room stocked with the portable X-ray the real fun began. Nobody spoke English! Obviously not their fault considering I was visiting their country. Again, I was kicking myself in the butt for not retaining my French. Anywho, they continually asked me for more information regarding the condition of my leg, name, etc. I was able to convey some of the answers in French and picked up a few phrases here and there. During all the translation barriers they kept administering the morphine, applied traction in an archaic manner of hanging weights off the end of the bed, and contacted my family. A few minutes after the X-rays were taken the doctor came back in and informed me that I had broken my femur. Needless to say I broke down a bit knowing it was a definite end to a good season I was having and that recovery would take some time. The nurses handed me some tissues and gave me some private time to collect myself. At that time I was also connected with my Mother and Father in the States where I could release some of my emotion and inform them of what was happening. Eventually, things settled down a bit and they transported me upstairs to a bedroom in a sort of holding pattern. A combination of factors was to be determined of where I was going to have surgery, how I was going to be transported, and to make it as quick of a decision as possible. It was concluded that I would be transferred to AZ Sint- Lucas Brugge the next morning where I would undergo surgery and recovery. It was just easier in terms of location to the team house, having my Dad around, and not having such a difficult language barrier.

Monday morning could not come around fast enough. Still in traction and waiting for the okay from the doctors on both ends all I could do was lay around with giggly nurses strolling in and out of the room. Finally, everything was agreed upon, papers and signatures were transferred, and I was put back in a stabilization bag for transport. It was a very very very painful morning with all the moving around from different beds and carts and bumpy hour and half car ride. When I arrived in Brugge it didn’t take long to go through a cat scan, which was another bed change, and put me under for repair on my right leg. YES! Finally put out! They couldn’t inject the anesthesia and put the gas mask on fast enough. Out like a light and waking up only a moment later (which was actually a three to four hour surgery) it was a groggy beginning to my recovery. Now with another rod in my neighboring leg I guess I can consider myself a bit more symmetric and will have quite a bit of time before I am back on the bike and going again. 

before and after surgery

not a bad view from the hospital window (church and bell towers of Brugge in the distance)

Finally, out of the hospital after 8 days I am now somewhat settled back into the apartment in Oostkamp with my Dad and wheelchair close by as roomies. I have had some great support during this whole event with my family, friends, director and team, my Dad jetting over the same day, and all the doctors and nurses that have put an effort in. Thanks so much again and I will try to keep everyone posted about my rehab in Europe.

FIRST DAYS and UCI 1.2 DWARS DOOR HET HAGELAND

I am back in Belgium, specifically Oostkamp, which is only a few kilometers from Brugge (Bruges). After arriving last Tuesday, I settled in quickly, received my team clothing, setup my race bike, and prepped for my first race in Europe which was held on Sunday in Aarschot. 

Taylor helped me settle in with a little machiatto

First things first, since being absent for three years I had to make an appearance at the waffle stand in Brugge. Only a couple hours after dialing in the position on the bike, I rattled along the narrow cobbled streets of the medieval city till I found the small open air corner shop. Quickly pulling out the Euros I ordered my Liege waffle and topped it with a scoop of Speculoos ice cream and powdered sugar. I savored the sugary concoction and brief stop in Brugge before heading out on my post travel spin. 

Battling the hints of jet lag and puffed up legs I seemed to come around quite well before the weekend. Nothing a few spins on the bike and medical grade compression tights can’t aid. Riding around Oostkamp again is a great feeling. As I ride in each direction I remember glimpses of the routes and can seem to keep my bearings a bit better. Having arrived later in the year compared to 2008 the views have changed slightly. It is definitely growing season with corn stalks, veggies, and leafy greens littering the landscape. It makes it a bit more difficult glancing across the horizon for the next church tower. With a solid few days back on the bike it was soon time for the UCI 1.2. 

After going through the typical race day morning routine and arriving at the staging area, I quickly found myself lining up and ready to roll out. Unable to understand the commentator I anxiously waited for the lead car to start up and kick off the 185 kilometers. Finally, we were clipped in and heading out of town and the attacks were soon to follow. Lining up toward the front allowed me to partake in some of the feverish attacks. I was able to make it in a couple groups but we were quickly gobbled up each time by the antsy peloton. I decided to just maintain my position toward the front forty or so riders to conserve energy and try to wait a bit longer before the rubber band snapped. The kilometers ticked away pretty fast during the first hour as we averaged a steady pace of 47 km/hr. After about 90 kilometers I looked up and realized I had a brief lapse of focus and found myself about eighty to a hundred guys back. Argh! Unfortunately, it was at that time that we approached the final seven closing circuits which were quite fast. Being strung out for the first two I was unable to gain very many positions and was still stuck. When I hit the 140 km mark I cramped pretty badly and just couldn’t ride through the hamstrings uncontrollably contracting. I was forced to drop out after the broom wagon had passed and made my way back to the team van. Never ever being satisfied with a DNF I was a bit bummed but still took away some positive aspects of the race with the fast guys. 

Next up is another UCI 1.2 (Peveloise) in Pont a Marcq, France. It should be another great test and I will be lining up once again trying to achieve a top result.

MID SEASON

After having a slight hiatus and mid-season break from blogging I am back! It was a whirlwind of a last month or two where I raced in the Tour of the Gila, Mutual of Enumclaw, and Mount Hood Cycling Classic. Each race was notable with their distinctive stage characteristics including: a time trial, crit, and road race or two. In each event I had a goal to try and make the break or front group to sprint it out for a decent result. I found myself in a break with 7 laps to go in the Gila crit, made the front selection in Enumclaw to place 6^th in the road race, and rode on for 23^rd place in the Hood Classic stage 4 where the field was slowly whittled down in the three summits road race. 

As well as having my break from blogging I took a bit of a vacation from the bike as well where I traveled south to San Francisco. It was a bit difficult leaving the steed behind but the main purpose was visiting the Stanford Medical Center but also to tour around the city to refresh the mind and body. Not to alarm anyone, but the medical visit was to check on my heart to make sure everything is working smoothly. Valves are looking good, heart thickness is within normal ranges, and the resting and stress echo’s were passed with flying colors. 

During my time downtown I took a gander at the numerous piers beginning with Pier 1 and strolling up to Pier 39 or more commonly known as Fisherman’s Wharf. My first objective of the day was to find a great, GREAT, bowl of clam chowder as that is one of my weaknesses in coastal towns. I eventually found myself in line at the Boudin Bakery where I sampled an Anchor Brewery stout and dived into a soft sourdough bread bowl of New England clam chowder. Needless to say, I was very satisfied after stuffing myself and had an increased boost of energy to get lost in the numerous neighborhoods of San Fran. 

As I crested one of the many hills in downtown I began noticing bands of the Italian colors painted on every street light. I realized I stumbled upon Little Italy and eventually into an Illy Café where I had a killer cappuccino partnered with some fresh Tiramisu. So good! 

After savoring the frothy concoction and coffee inspired dessert I walked my way into another mouthwatering situation, Italian gelato. Oh dear! An older couple, stationed behind the limited selection of creamy and dense ice cream, scooped me up some delicious coffee and stracciatela. I had no concern for the heat melting my little cup of goodness as it only took a couple minutes to devour the authentic creation. Finally, I was full! I walked it off a bit more touring around the outer edges of China town, the financial district, and visiting the Giants baseball stadium. It was a great few days in the sun and I really appreciated Dan and his wife Michy letting me crash in the guest bedroom. Thanks guys!

When I returned back to Bend, it was time to get a bit more serious and I started ramping up the training in preparation for my travels to Belgium. Before heading across the pond and getting to ahead of myself, I was honored to be a groom’s man for my best friend Tom Segal. Having been friends with him, and his now wife Sarah, I was super excited to finally see them tie the knot. I had a blast supporting them and catching up with everyone else that attended. Seeing parents, family, friends, new faces, and dancing the night away in beautiful Fall River was a nice lead in to traveling abroad where I will be based in Oostkamp, Belgium for the next few months with the Geox-Fuji Test Team.

Stay bookmarked as I will have my first international blog update after racing a UCI 1.2 on Sunday. Can’t wait!

RACE RECAP: TOUR OF WALLA WALLA

After logging some more base miles and group rides after King’s Valley I was hitting the road again up to Walla Walla, Washington. This race weekend I was accompanied by my Dad and two younger Sister’s. It was a pretty smooth drive from Bend to the start of the Waitsburg road race on Friday. Four to five hour drive, check in/registration, and pinned numbers, I was ready to begin the race weekend in the afternoon. 

The first stage was a 64 mile, 3 lap, course which included one major climb and some mild rollers. The beginning of the race was ridden under cloudy skies and mild temperatures. But each lap would see an evolution of decaying weather. Every time around the finish line my fingers grew colder, legs didn’t fire as well, and the pavement became increasingly damp. Unfortunately, it made it a bit difficult at the end to finish in the front group and I lost some time on the final two kilometer climb to the finish. Should have put on the hot embro! 

The next day was a complete change of weather. The morning was a 9.3 mile time trial which saw partly cloudy skies and a decent swirling wind. There was a fairly flat run in to a short climb followed by more flat and rollers to the finish. Pretty straight forward and one of those races you just put the head down and GO. I saved a little in the tank before hitting the climb so I wouldn’t bog down on the climb and rolled through in 19^th place with a time of 20 minutes 52 seconds. Just about a minute off the leader. 

That evening was a 55 minute twilight crit in downtown Walla Walla. A pretty fun technical course. But my main focus was to chill in the pack and stay safe for the following day as I knew there would be much attrition involved in the road race. Things seemed to roll smooth and there were no crashes. I was able to move up to the front with a few laps to go but was chopped quite hard in some of the corners before the finish. I ended up 32^nd on the day, safe and sound.

The last stage was where GC would be sorted out a bit. A rolling 91 mile course with a total of 5000 feet of climbing saw guys popping off the back quite quickly. Each lap the field was whittled down. Like wood shavings on the floor you saw remnants of the reduced field standing by as you passed around each lap. By the end there was only a group of about 35 guys to sprint to the line. I was boxed in a bit during the sprint and rolled in 22^nd which put me in 17^th on GC for the weekend. 

Overall, it was another good weekend of racing in a great area and my fitness continues to grow as I approach the Tour of the Gila only a few days away.