Yesterday, I raced in the Scripps Ranch 4th of July fun ride race. That’s right, I raced it.  At this point, someone usually point out, “It’s a ride, not a race”, and to them I say flatly - baloney!  Among the 200 or so riders starting the 50-mile course, I’ll bet there wasn’t more than a handful who weren’t racing.

This was going to be a big test for me.  Not as much a test of my fitness as a test of my head and heart.  Do I have what it takes to race a 50-mile course with some of the strongest riders in all of San Diego county?  Do I have the mental and emotional fortitude to race?

There were a lot of shaved legs at the start.  Lots of categorized and club racers were there for the 7am start.  There were also a lot of grey-dogs.  Guys in their 40’s who are ex-olympians, ex-national champs or ex-ironmen and looking to prove they still have it.   Why do they come to this race?  I don’t know, but there they are, every year.

Last year, after yo-yo’ing off the back almost immediately, I got decisively popped at mile 22, on the first little bumps before Del Dios.  I did not have what it took.  This year, in the best form of my life, I would race as hard as I could and finish close to the front.  It was to be an ALL-OUT effort, leaving everything I had on the road.  Do I have what it takes to race?

Consider the flash of color, the sounds, the speed, the exhilaration of riding in a 7-across peloton. Racing happens really fast in the peloton.  At 27 mph, surrounding by racers, the peloton becomes an organic being of it’s own. A bit of my inner (and outer) monologue:

“Watch your position - move up! move up!”

“Ho hey! Ho hey!  Give me some room, buddy.”

“On your left, that’s my wheel!”

“There goes Mark, get his wheel!”

“Drink, drink, you gotta stay hydrated - how do you drink going this fast?”

“Where the heck is Voris going, better go with him…”

“Come on guy, fill the gap - hey, watch your line!”

We mostly stopped for lights, or just momentarily took them over after the cars stopped to gawk at us.  We took the entire first lane of whatever road we were on for the first half of the race, until the peloton exploded climbing Del Dios.  I recorded a top speed of 53 miles an hour flying down Calle Cristobal.  I was handlebar to handlebar with 30 other riders and I don’t know how many more behind me.  I was too afraid to turn around.

On San Dieguito Rd, the rider in front of me suddenly slowed - I had to brake to avoid hitting him.  People behind me shouted and the guy on my right was suddenly on me, our bars tangling.  We leaned on each other a second or two, got stable and kept going.  There was no stopping, there was no, “wow, we almost crashed” moment, this was a race.  A shout, a push, some grumbling and the race continues.

Taking a corner at 25 mph is really fun - now do it with 20 other guys.  The peloton becomes an animal and I am part of the animal.  I get a little vertigo sometimes with so much motion around me, but I focus on the other riders and keep racing.

Save your energy by staying out of the wind - but you have to move up, cause other riders are always swarming around you.  The best is to find some sucker in the wind, moving up and jump on his wheel.  Let him do the work.  Occasionally, when it’s important, you gotta get in the wind, move up.  Being on the back is death.  It’s pops-ville back there.  Somebody about to snap will let a gap go to the group and you’re done.  No, it’s better to be in the top 10 or 20 positions.  Once I was moving up with some guy who went straight off the front, so I followed, in his slipstream and barely working.  Then he pulled off to the side, exhausted. I was at no more than 80% hr max.  I coasted and let the pack pick me up.  Let someone else break the wind.

On the bumps in Rancho Santa Fe, where I snapped last year, I’m out of the saddle.  I stay with the group comfortably.  I don’t know where my heart rate is, I’m not looking down to check.  The peloton doesn’t slow down for little hills like this, they just power over.  I power over with them.  I’m racing.

We hit the base of Del Dios and I’m in the middle of a huge group with maybe 50 riders in front of me.  I focus on my tempo cause I know some will climb faster than I can and get away.  I have to let them go.  I can’t blow up here.  I will dig deep, give what I have to give and ride tempo.

Riders go around me, I go around riders.  I climb, I dig deep and I race.  I focus on just getting to the next little rise, then I hammer the downhills to make up what I’ve lost to the leaders.  I look down and see the shadow of a wheel behind me, it’s Voris - beauty!  I look back and he knows what I need - a break.  Voris comes around, gives me a push (like an angel!) and takes the lead for a bit.  I survey the damage as we approach the end of the climb.  There are two groups in front of us.  A lead group of about 15 and a chasing group of maybe 20.  Voris and I continue working together and at the top, we’re just behind the chasing group.

We can’t catch them by ourselves.  We need a team, willing to work together to claw our way back into the chasing group.  We find 3 other riders and do some quick turns on the descent to the 15 and onto Pomerado Rd.  The chasing group is just ahead - they’ve sat up a bit to take a break.  It’s now or never boys - when they start up again we better be on or we’ll never see them again.  I take a strong pull, so does Dave.  Someone else.  I’m hurting and the chasing group is still sitting.  We did it - we’re on the back of the chasing group.

I choke down a GU just as they get froggy and kick the pace up.  Thankfully we’re inside and I get pulled along, sputtering sticky gel and gulping down water.  The tempo down Pomerado is fast, but we let other people pace us, keeping a wary eye out for breakaways.  Too close to the end to let someone get away.  I chew down another GU because I know what’s coming.  Pomerado hill - one of my favorite hills in all of San Diego.  Short, steep and sweet, I know that I’m going to attack.  I can’t take 20 people to the line and that hill is where we’re going to separate the wheat from the chaff - I hope I’m wheat!

Dave’s knee is hurting and he tells me he’s not going to hammer up the hill.  Ok, I’m on my own now, but I know just what to do.  My focus narrows as we approach the bottom and I’m not sure how to describe the intensity in my head.  We hit the bottom and I’m off the front.  Nothing flashy, I just ride away from everyone else with a storm raging in my heart.  Goodbye.  Enjoy your “fun ride”.  I’m a racer and today, I’m racing.

Another rider catches me and slowly passes.  Yes, I knew he would.  He has a beard and is riding with a camelbak.  Those guys always catch you on the hills.  This is what they do.  Then a triathelete looking guy goes by slowly and a guy in a Blues Brother’s jersey along with a grey-dog in a green jersey.  At the top, it’s me and Blue Brothers with the Triathelete, Grey-dog and the Beard about 30 meters ahead.  We’re about to drop down the other side of Pomerado - this is where we should maximize the gap we created on the climb.  The gap between myself and the front three is dangerous.  I hammer past Blue Brothers and say, “Get on!  Let’s go!” and kick the pace as high as my legs will go.  I move over and Blues Bro takes a hard turn.  We catch the trio and now we’re a group of 5.  I look back and don’t see anyone.  With only a few miles left, it’s time to run like we stole something.

Grey-dog does a huge pull, he’s strong.  Then triathelete gets on and we’re absolutely flying. I’m trying to hang onto his slipstream - wow!  Blues Bro and I take more moderate pulls.  The beard hangs in the back.  I’m not the strongest one in this group, but I am going to be first across the line.

We fly around the Willow Creek turn and hammer up the hill.  Then we swoop down through the commercial park and dive into a turn onto Scripps Ranch Blvd.  I’m third and do a little prayer cause we’re not stopping and hopefully the cars will, but I don’t really care.  I’m racing.

We get to the little rises past the high school and give it a push.  Beard and gray-dog can hang.  Predictable.  Right turn onto Scripps Lake - it’s happening fast now.  We are in the final k’s to the line.  Just one last short and steep climb past the library.

Grey-dog goes off the front!  It’s all happening right here.  Now is the time!  Fuck this, I go after him.  It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!  I don’t care.  Everything I have is going into the pedals.  My legs aren’t working properly.  I ignore everything and focus on the rider ahead of me.  I will catch you!  I am catching you bastard!  I’m at 99% hr max.  Who cares, this is where it counts.  Out of the saddle, I hammer an impossible gear and catch him at the top.  We fly around the corner and dive into the neighborhood streets that lead to the finish.  There are pedestrians, runners, other (much slower) cyclists.  A woman with a stroller - jeez.

Grey-dog is faster through the corners as we descend to the park.  He’s taking just a little more risk than me.  We round the final turn and he’s got 10 meters on me.  I sprint all out and he raises his arms in victory.  I get second place.  Second place in the second group.  My best estimate (after comparing notes with others) is that I finished 17th overall out of about 200 riders.

I raced.  I didn’t win (yesterday), but I raced.

Got a recommendation to read The Rider, by Tim Krabbe and wow - am I glad I did!  I’ve read a few books about bike racing, but this was the rawest, most exciting and genuine account of a bike race I’ve ever read.  Here’s the first paragraph.

Meyrueis, Lozere, June 26, 1977. Hot and overcast.  I take my gear out of the car and put my bike together.  Tourists and locals are watching from sidewalk cafes.  Non-racers.  The emptiness of those lives shocks me.

Go to Amazon (or whereever) and get it now.  Or ask me and I’ll loan you my copy.  Seriously, this is the real deal.

‘Twas the night before le Tour, and all through across the land
Not a cyclist was racing not even Hincapie;
The TiVo was programmed to record every second,
In the hopes that victory would…  something that rhymes with ’second’.

Oh, I hate poetry.  But I do LOOVE le Tour! And it all begins in about 36 hours.

I’ve previewed the first few stages, I’ve read all the analysis. I’ve haunted VeloNews.com for any last minute updates on Astana’s status, I totally understand the whole ASO/UCI thing.  My TiVo(s) are empty and set to double-record the first 7 stages (just in case!!!).

I’m ready.

Months of preparation and years of experience have gotten me ready to spectate the next three weeks of the most amazing sporting event ever concieved.

I’m ready.  Are you?

I needed one last crazy stunt before I begin my 2-week taper for my trip to the Tour de France.  I needed to jam as much training in my body as possible.  I needed to take on something just a little bit risky to prove to myself that I can handle it.

At the start of my training, I looked around San Diego and tried to find something that would approximate my big mountain day in the French Alps.  According to Bikely.com, I’ll be climbing 12,642 feet over 86 miles!  I set my sights on Mt. Palomar which has two 4,000 ft climbs on it.  Obviously, I’d need to be able to do laps.

Among the Descenders, the “Palomar Trifecta” is a ride of real glory.  You start in Santa Ysabel, ride up Palomar via the East Grade Rd, then down and back up the South Grade Rd.  You gain another 1,300 feet climbing to the Palomar Observatory and back to make it a “Trifecta”.  This is a great ride, but it’s been done before.  It’s a known quantity and I was too confident I could do it.  I needed something a little more “out there” - with a bit of uncertainty as to whether I had the right stuff to do it.  I decided to add climbing 1,300 ft to Julian after the Trifecta.  Should be close to a century with 11k+ feet of climbing.  Holy crap!  Ok, now we’re talking.

I was pedaling away from Santa Ysabel at 11am.  Perfect - I would be climbing during the absolute hottest part of the day. This would be GREAT training for the Alps.  I added a small detour through Mesa Grande because Voris suggested it and I’m glad I did.  Riding through cattle ranch country was gorgeous and I barely felt the chain.  I kept my pace low and heart-rate under 88% (which I believe is my threshold).  I felt great.  I took it real easy on the descent back to Hwy 76, in fact on all descents.  It just didn’t seem smart to be taking risks when I was out there by myself.

Pretty soon I was at the base of Palomar Mountain climbing the East Grade Rd.  While I’ve done the South Grade road 3 times, this was my first ascent up the east side.  The sign predicted 14 miles to the top - ouch.  I settled into a rhythm and climbed.  The East Grade road is longer than the South Grade so it’s also less sustained climbing.  I think I actually prefer the East Grade though, there was hardly any traffic and the countryside was awesome.

Someone had the great idea to put mile markers on the road so I was able to track my progress easily.  The problem is that the mile markers are in 0.2 mile increments!  2.2 miles…  pedal-pedal-pedal… 2.4 miles…  You get around a curve, see a sign and realize you’ve only gone about 1000 feet down the road.  I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why they thought they needed a mile marker every 0.2 miles.  How many signs was this?   Seventy signs for just the East Grade Rd…  Tax dollars hard at work…

Well that was a nice little rant which has gotten me precisely 0.6 miles down the road…

It started to get pretty hot so I switched over to my altimeter and watched it climb.  I imagined it was getting cooler for every foot I climbed.  I sweated and pedaled.  It got hotter.  I turned off my iPod cause it was annoying me and enjoyed the sounds of my bike making it’s way through the countryside.  I kept reminding myself to drink - I had 85 grams of maltodextrin in each bottle delivering 80 carbs (compare a single GU packet at just 25!) and for the first time ever, my stomach started to get queasy from the sugar.  I think because it was hot so and I was drinking more which was loading my stomach with all the carbs.  Finally, I came around the corner at the top.  I took a right up Crestline and back to include “the last little bit” of climbing possible and then I was at Mother’s.  I took a nice break, switched one bottle to pure water and the other to Gatorade and then began my descent down the South Grade road.  My plan was to get both of the really big climbs out of the way early.

I descended 6 miles and 2,750 feet back to the “Y”, turned around and searched for a rhythm.  “Oh great, mile markers in 0.2 mile increments again.”  It was really, really hot at the bottom.  Fine, I need to acclimatize to hotter weather anyways.  I focused on climbing and getting cooler.  Kept drinking but my sour stomach persisted and actually got worse.  I started to feel a bit dizzy, but kept climbing.  It only got worse.  Finally the yuck in my belly won and I pulled over to rest a minute.  That started a pattern - cycle for one mile (5 mile markers) and then rest.  But maybe this time only 3 mile markers…

Doubt crept in.

Doubt: You’re a long way from the car.  Even if you make it to the top and descend the East Grade, you still have 12 miles back to Santa Ysabel and that small climb.

Me: I can make it, no problem.

Doubt: You’re bailing on the Observatory at least - do you need to get further away from the car?

Me: I will feel better after a rest at Mother’s.

Doubt: Well Julian is FOR SURE out, right?

Me: Shut up and accept that I going the distance today.

Somehow I managed to climb back to the 5,000 foot mark.  I remembered how Voris once said he likes to sprint from here to the top - can’t be far.  “Let’s see, it was 6 miles down, I was at 27.4.  Was that at the top?  Crap, I hate doing math in my head…”  And then I was back at Mother’s.

Two more bottles of water and a gatorade.  Threw down a Starbucks Doubleshot cause it sounded good.  Took a long rest and drank as much water as I could stand.  Took a little pee and confirmed my dehydrated state.  Doubt was still slinking around the corners of mind, but I focused on how well I rode on day 2 of the Monster climbs trip, after having felt not so perfect at the top of Horseshoe Meadow.

Filled both bottles (one water, one gatorade again) and stuck a third bottle in my jersey and took off for the Observatory.  Two miles down, then three miles up.  It’s the reverse on the way back.  I decided it was easy and I would barely notice the climbing, so that’s what happened.

I like to pedal around the Observatory itself, it’s a pretty building.  Some offical-type person in an offical-type car tried to stop me and ask where I was going.  I must be doing something wrong cause I’ve been hassled twice at the Observatory.  I had my iPod in and frankly, I just ignored the guy.  I mean, seriously - I am one guy, riding a VERY expensive bike.  I can barely walk in my shoes and am wearing a brightly colored lycra suit.  Am I really a security threat?  What am I going to do?

So, I pedal back to Mother’s (just 2 miles of climbing on the way back - super easy) and then head down the East Grade Rd.  There, I’ve done the Palomar trifecta.  I even added the “extra bit” and I didn’t die.  I could tell I was starting to feel good again.  Of course I’m going for Julian, there is glory down this road.

The 12 miles back to Santa Ysabel aren’t that bad, although I wish the road had a better shoulder.  I’m getting really good at riding that skinny white line though.  It’s about 5:30p when I get back in town (if you can call it that) and I quickly refill my bottles and take off for Julian.

Now I’m actually feeling pretty good.  Legs are ok, stomach is great, heart is singing.  What can it be, just 4 miles to the Wynola road turnoff?  That’s too easy, I wish it was 6.  I’m going faster now and even shift up.  Wynola Rd. comes and I take the left.  I think Wynola is one of the best rides in the area, up or down.  Hey Voris, let’s compile a list of the top 25 rides in the San Diego area…  I know Wynola is in there…

It’s 3 miles up Wynola and 2 miles down Farmer’s Road to Julian, at right angles to each other.  I try to work out the hypotenuse that Hwy 79 takes and then remember that I’m trying to do math in my head again so I just keep climbing instead.  I’m really starting to feel good, out of the saddle a bit and rather enjoying myself.  This is a pretty good way to end such a big day.  Next thing I know, I’m bagging the Julian town sign cause there’s no one else there to out-sprint me for it.

I stop and try to call Romy and to apologize for missing dinner but I can’t reach her.  It’s 6:30pm.  Wow, I’ve been on my bike for 7.5 hours.  Time to head down the hill.  I try to calculate how close to riding a century I’ll do.  Let’s see, it was 2 miles on Farmers and 3 miles on Wynola, there’s 4 back down the hill plus…  I need a little calculator.  Anyways, there is no way I am doing laps to make this into a century, so I’ll just be surprised when I get back to the car.

I hammer it going back on Farmers, especially on what I call “the Mur du Julian”, a really steep section that reminds me of the Mur du Huy for some reason.  I hammer it down Wynola and cut all the corners nicely, leaning a little farther than usual and using the brakes a bit less.  My legs are what you’d expect after a 90+ mile day with 11,241 feet of climbing in them, but my heart is fully in the game.

I feel great for doing the mileage and the elevation, but it was overcoming adversity that makes the ride so valuable. No doubt about it, I had an authentic super-mega-ultra bonk coming up the South Grade.  I could have stopped, cut the ride short or even called a taxi I guess.  But I kept on.  And by the time I arrived in Julian, I was hammering it and sprinting (by myself) for the town sign.  So, beyond the mileage, the elevation, even the bragging rights - persistence was the priceless part.

Ok, I’m a spreadsheet guy. I admit it. And according to my cycling spreadsheet, I’ve ridden my bike 3,097 miles this year.  I’ve basically ridden my bike from San Diego to Boston. Wow.

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Here’s another one for you - so far this year, I’ve only driven my car 1,566 miles. So, I’ve ridden my bike almost twice as far. Now that’s a carbon footprint I can live with.

Their sinister pact was hatched a long time before I came zooming down the SR-56 bike path. It was a beautiful, clear day and I was riding right into their ambush at 22.7mph.  After my century ride Tuesday, I was just out for a few recovery miles to the coast and back. But who can guess the dark thoughts of a twisted rodent mind?  They waited patiently, for maybe hours, for just the right moment.  With the wind (and a little Dave Matthews) rushing in my ears, I couldn’t hear their tiny rodent-cries of “Banzai!!” as they unleashed their sinister attack!

The first kamikaze squirrel darted out from the ice plant along the side of the trail aimed directly for my front wheel!  BUMP-THUMP! I was just rolling over the first suicide-attacker when the second squirrel launched, again directly for my front wheel!  BUMP-THUMP! Oooh, another direct hit.

The attackers had not considered the strength of my new Mavic Kysrium SLC wheels, nor the 110psi pressure in my tires, nor my 185lb bulk, driving my bike forward at 22.7mph.  Unfortunately for them, their attack was a total disaster.  I slowed and turned around after the incident but I did not see any bodies on the road.  Maybe their accomplises quickly dragged them to a little squirrel-M*A*S*H hospital.

Keep your eyes open for these little guys.  This could have been the opening moves in a larger revolutionary action - they are probably upset about all those “Don’t feed the squirrels!” signs at the local parks…

We’ve been warned…

I have a hard time making it to Julian.  I’ve been turned around by weather, I’ve mega-bonked on the way home and been just plain-old, “I don’t have the legs and wont try”.  In fact, the only time I’ve had a really enjoyable time getting to Julian and back was on a midweek ride with Mike. Mike and I set out to replicate our success yesterday morning.  He’s training for L’Etape in a few weeks and was looking for lots of miles at a reasonably slow pace.

With my poor success record for getting to Julian and back home, I’ve built up some fear around attempting it.  It’s my nemesis ride.  My goal for the day was to dispel the demons and make Julian mine.

The road to Julian is difficult.  First, it’s uphill most of the way there.  But it’s not like climbing a mountain, where you can get into a rhythm and pedal for an hour or two, it constantly changes up, so you’ve got to keep changing riding styles and the downhill return trip is something you have to work at rather than just coast through.  It’s also a long course - at least 86 miles round trip from my house to Julian, which is a big ride for me.  And this time, Mike and I resolved to add Highland Valley Road into the mix on the way back for extra fun and miles.  Here’s the elevation profile for the day.

We took the pace slow and steady on a gorgeous SoCal morning.  Sheehan joined us for the early part of the ride out Poway Rd and through Ramona.  He did a really great job with some long pulls at the front that I think ended up making a big difference to both Mike and I. Unfortunately, his calendar had him turn back before the end of Old Julian Hwy.

Heading through the backcountry east of San Diego is always amazing.  I think that I live in an urban area, but within a few minutes, I can be pedalling through rural farmland and past ranches with grazing cattle and horses.  It was a beautiful morning.

We climbed out of Santa Ysabel and were soon on Wynola Rd, one of the prettiest mountain roads around and a terrific descent on the way home.  In no time, we were enjoying apple pie.

I’m not so sure that wolfing down a big piece of pie is really the best way prepare for the 50-mile return trip, so I just had a few bites.  The pie was good as usual though.  Afterwards, we stretched out, refilled or bottles and headed down the hill.  Wynola road was a lot of fun.  I’m remembering the corners and getting to be a better descender.  In no time, we were flashing back through Santa Ysabel, headed home.

Mike was feeling a bit knackered so I took the lead to help him for the flat and uphill portions.  I was more than happy to take the wind as Mike has helped me get home on several occasions.  It was also a great workout and knowing that Mike needed my help to get home was motivation to keep my tempo high and not slack off.

And even though I was starting to get tired by the time we got back to Ramona, we added the Highland Valley Road loop.  It was hot, our bottles were empty and Mike knew where to find a hose bib.  We stopped by the side of the road and showered off - wow that felt good!  I had been 5 hours in the saddle by then and that cool, fresh water felt amazing.  With full bottles and a rejuvenated spirit, we zoomed down HVR - a favorite descent for the Descenders because of the fast and twisty roads.

Back on the flat, headed for home, Mike pointed out that if I could find a few extra miles, I had a century day possible (100+ miles).  I had just popped my final GU and this seemed like a great idea.  The only real problem was that there are very few flat roads in Scripps Ranch on which to get “free miles”.  Nevertheless, as Mike and I parted, I kept an eye on the odometer and decided to add a couple of little loops that should put me over the 100-mile mark.  That’s when the final GU wore off and it started to hurt :)  But I was resolute and accepted the suffering and the extra miles.  I arrived home with my odometer reading 100.9 miles.

It had been a really hard day, but I felt good.  Ok, my body hurt (a lot), but my spirit felt good.  I made it to Julian and back on a really tough day.  One hundred miles for pie.

Which is better - crossing a cattle guard at 8mph while climbing or at 39.7mph on the descent?

I think it’s best at slow speeds.  My bike gets all hobbly-wobbly, the tires feel only half-inflated and I worry about falling over and disappearing into the grate who’s bars now seems to be more than 2 feet apart.  Plus, you get for one short second, the barest idea of what it might be like to ride the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix.

All you get from zipping over them at 39.7mph is a brief, “Oh god, I hope this works!” moment and then ZZIIP, you’re done.

But enough of my opinion, you decide

I told Dave on the drive out, “If I don’t have good legs today, I just don’t have good legs.”

After spending the week in recovery mode (which makes me crazy), I was very much looking forward to testing myself on Palomar Mountain this morning.  We choose a short course that allows us to maximize our effort towards climbing.  Here’s the profile:

It was hot, hot, hot in the valley (eventually 105 F when we came back down), but got cooler as we gained altitude.  Once the climb began, I put myself on the front of a group with Voris and Rick, set my HR at 90% max, put my head down and climbed.  I was looking to do a repeat performance of how I climbed to Whitney Portal a couple of weeks ago.

Palomar is nowhere as steep as Whitney (7% compared to 11% for Mt. Whitney) so I was able to keep my cadence high and even shifted up a few times when it eased off a bit.  We climbed and climbed and it got cooler the higher we got.

Dozens of motorcyclists buzzed past us, up and down the mountain.  Palomar, with 12 miles of very sharp turns through an oak/pine forest, is a very popular destination for these guys (and gals), who like to see how fast they can take the corners.  We passed at least two motorbikes that had crashed and I wonder how many bikes go down here every weekend.  The paramedics were on the scene at one incident, in the other, just the motorbike was broken.

For much of the climb, I was on the front, setting the pace for Voris and Rick.  About 2/3 the way up, Voris came around and slowly built up a small gap.  The gap began increasing.  My HR was still right around 90% max and it seemed the prudent thing would be to let Dave go.  But I’m not very prudent.  The gap got a little larger and I thought, “Maybe if I just give it a few good kicks, I could close it down and hang on Dave’s wheel.”  So I gave it some gas and closed the gap pretty easily, but as soon as I settled on his wheel I was gapped again!  And now I was in debt from chasing him down so this time I really did let him go rather than risk a bonk.  Dave is very, very strong.  It’s a mistake to compare your performance to another rider on a long, hard road like Palomar - it’s too easy to blow up.  You just have to ride your own pace, and that’s what I did.

I got to the yield sign in 1:26:37 which beats my previous time up by a little more than a minute, which I think was good.  I ended up only losing 1:37 to Voris, and that’s good too, especially given how strong he is.

We stopped at the store to refill bottles and regroup then headed out to the observatory.  I was still feeling pretty good and again I pegged my HR right at 90% and took off.  Mike was along today and not feeling super strong so he and Voris pootled their way up together.  Rick decided to put the hammer down.  He was gone up the road in seconds.  A few minutes later I passed him, he had a flat and was just starting the repair.  Maybe 5 minutes later, he passes me again.  That guy is amazing.

On the way back from the observatory, on the little climb back to the store, I was feeling kinda froggy and jumped off the front.  Voris went with me and I tried to taunt him a little, hoping maybe I could find even the smallest chink in his wall of uber-performance.  No such luck, he laughed me off and dropped me.  Doh.  Did I mention he’s very strong?

Then it was time for fun, we began the 12 mile descent.  Twisty, turny and super fast.  Really good road surfaces and I’ve done it a few times now so I recognize some corners.  I managed to stay with the group on the descent and rather enjoyed myself.  Very little brakes except in the tight corners.

We got back to the team van Jim pulls out a jar of ice-cold dill pickles, just like on our Monster Climbs trip!  Awesome.  We put the gear away, changed into swimsuits and jumped into the pool - we had parked at a condo complex in Valley Center which has a beautiful pool.  You gotta imagine what it felt like - legs aching from 6,000 feet of climbing, 105 degree heat and then jump into a clear, cool pool.  If we had more beer, we could have made it a party

Oh btw, Mike is back - he’s been traveling a lot and even had to miss the Monster Climbs trip.  It was nice having you back today Mike.

Plans are firming up for my visit to the Tour de France.  Here’s the details:

Day 1 - Fly

Fly to Paris, get in a nice 40km ride to shake the legs out and help with the jet lag.  I hear our hotel is very close to the Eiffel Tower.

Day 2 - Alpe d’Huez

Take the TGV (world’s fastest passenger train) to Grenoble.  Jump in the team bus for a short ride to Vizile and then ride to our hotel at the top of Alpe d’Huez.  Not the steepest, or the longest climb in France, but certainly the most mythical with 21 famed switchbacks, each honoring Alpe d’Huez stage winners from previous TdFs.

Here is the elevation profile - it’s steep at first and then relentless to the top.

Day 3 - Ride most of Stage 17

Take the team bus to the Col de Lauteret where we join the route of the next day’s stage. We’ll do the Col du Galibier, Col du Telegraph, Col del la Croix-de-Fer, and Alpe d’Huez once more.

The Galibier is easiest from the Lauteret and the Telegraph is really just a minor bump on the descent of the Galibier.  First used in the 1911 Tour de France, the Galibier is often the highest point in the Tour

The route to the top is short, but sweet.  Averaging just 6.9% until the last pitchy section at the top which is 12.1%.  Nothing compared to the Monsters we climbed in early June.

Here’s the descent with the Col du Telegraph (we’ll ride it right to left, descending).  I plan on earning my Descenders jersey on this one:

After the Galibier, we head up the valley to tackle the Col de la Croix-de-Fer (Pass of the Iron Cross)

While not as steep as some mountains at only 5% average, the Croix is long at 39.5km.  And it does gain roughly 5,000 feet of elevation so it’s not to be discounted. This will be a major effort.

After the Croix de Fer, it’s back up Alpe d’Huez to our hotel.  I am so glad we’re staying on the Alpe!

Day 4 - The Tour comes to Alpe d’Huez

Stage 17 of le Tour finishes just beyond our hotel balcony, but don’t expect me to be sitting there, away from the pandemonium that’s coming to town.  Today, we have the option of hanging out in Alpe h’Huez with our legs up, riding down and back up Alpe d’Huez on race day to soak up the atmosphere or heading out to bag the Col de Sarenne.  I am honestly not sure what I’ll do, but I like the idea of riding down the Alpe and back up, stopping at a corner near the top to view the race go past.  I wouldn’t mind being one of those crazy fans so watch for me on TV.

And just imagine the crazy party that will rage overnight - my goal is to be able to wake up the next morning ready for the bike (just very slowly!)

Day 5 - Downhill to Grenoble

After the previous four days riding Alpe to Alpe, I’m sure to be happy coasting the 70km downhill to Grenoble today.  I think the excitement will come from being at the stage start.  Maybe I can bag an autograph or two.

Day 6 - Ride a stage of the Tour de France

We’re riding a complete Tour stage today, stage 19 from Roanne to Montluçon.  It will be 165km of rollers with only a single 3rd and 4th categorized climbs.  The peloton will be hot on our heels, and I assume that if they get too close to us, the race referee will pull off the course.  We’ll have to cooperate and get the group across the line in time.

I’m sure my legs will be toasty by the finish line. I wonder where I can get a massage?

Day 7 - Final Time Trial

No riding today, we’re touring the start area for the final 53km time trial to Saint Amand Montrond.  I’m excited to be able to wander around the start village, check out the riders warming up for the race and watch them leave the start house.

It’s likely that if the race was not won resoundingly on Alpe d’Huez, that it will be finished here.  Who ever is in the lead after today wears yellow in Paris.

Day 8 - Champs-Élysées

It’s another rest day as we make our way to Paris to watch the final stage on the famed cobbles of the Champs-Elysees.  It’s traditional that there be no racing for the GC on the final stage, but watch out for the sprinters.  Winning on the Champs means everlasting glory.

After the stage is won, we’ll see presentation of the final yellow jersey for the overall winner of the 2008 Tour de France.  My bet is he’ll be a very happy and very tired guy.  Then it’s off to dinner and a final night of celebration.  I wonder if there will be time to hop on the bike one last time and do a few laps around the Champs before packing it up…

Day 9 - Au revior!

Early trip to the airport for my flight home.  If this itinerary has you salivating, contact the good folks at http://www.bikestyletours.com.  I think there still may be a few slots open for you.