Cycling media always make fun of French cyclists because they can’t win anything that means something. They have the Tour de France in their backyard and the last time a French Fry won it – well – nobody really remembers – maybe Laurnet Fignon? Anyway, everyone jokes about French riders searching the race calendar looking for the easiest races, just so they can claim VICTORY!
Anyway, I felt like a French cyclist on Saturday as I lined up for the start of the Phoenix American Diabetes Tour de Cure road “race”. I woke up at 5am, stopped at IHOP and put down a breakfast bigger than any man has ever eaten. I didn’t even make it out the restaurant without stopping for a 10 minute rest room break as the walk from my table to the cashier got my GI moving faster than the Colorado River during spring run off. Back in the car, drive to the venue and to the line. I found our corporate teammates, and one of them didn’t have his race number on yet – Goooooooo! Screamed the City Council Loudmouth, while we sat there getting him pinned up. A minute after the gun, we departed – staying together at a very, very, very, very relaxed pace on flat roads of around 13mph. Well, after a half hour of social talk, corporate talk, and gobbledegawk, we were probably 10 places from last on the road. 400 people started. Nice…..I said my good byes at that point and hit the gas to a steady pace of 20-21mph for the next two hours.
First I passed the discount store mountain bike crowd with sheepskin seats, cotton t-shirts, and Camelbaks. This group proves that anyone can ride a bike 62 miles. ANYONE. Next, I rode up on the entry level road bike riders with crazy posture, low seats, and bags dangling from their seats with enough rations for a 3-course meal for the 3rd infantry in Iraq. Then came the group of 50+ age men who were pacelining at 17.5mph on $10,000 DeRosa’s and cusom fit Serotta’s. These guys are never very friendly. Next came a wave of guys on time trial bikes wearing anything from skinsuits to baggy shorts. These clowns were pushing huge gears on the flats and were sure to burn out well before the finish. At the ½ way mark I finally reached a group that I could only describe as moderate talent overachievers. These guys were working wayyyy too hard to early, but they were not going to be denied a 100th place finish if their lives depended on it. Finally I caught the front of the group. Speaking of working too hard, I was starting to fade a bit having skipped every aid station and running on a nearly empty bucket of IHOP food.
Fading, and fading some more, I saw what looked like a mirage of red jerseys so I punched it until I caught on. It was the lead group riding a steady pace in Diabetes jerseys with Colavita shorts. This national team had raised buckets of cash for the event so they were leading the race to the finish line. Since I had raised nothing, and was only here because my company threw in the $150 minimum entry fee – I assumed my position at the back of the group and coasted home. I could have pulled a French cyclist move and punked them at the line while they weren’t even expecting it. Instead I finished anonymously in a pack of 20 riders where I rightfully belonged. It was a good day on the bike.
Man, nice report. You have 90% of it stereoypical but 100% true. I would only add that I am sure Big Steve has seen a bigger breakfast.
ReplyDeleteLast time I was at an IHOP with Chris he had the bigger breakfast. I had the black bean chili omelet with a side of fruit and he had a monster stack of pancakes surrounded by fried dead animal pieces. We must have been in some sort of bizarro world.
ReplyDeleteBTW, I think you should have Frenched that group at the end and done it in perfect style by fully zipping up before the line and crossing with your arms raised and fingers pointed to the sky.
A Black Bean Chilli Omlette with a side of fruit...thats like a Big Mac, Fries, and a Diet Coke.
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