Home Sweet Home

Being back in Boulder is so wonderful, it almost makes me feel like traveling is just another way to make me truly appreciate the beauty of my home. All of the crazy adventures are already starting to fade away into a hazy memory of a wild dream - did I REALLY ride up the Alpe d'Huez and meet Cadel Evans? My father's eating habits are also starting to return to normal, although he can still consume more calories with less apparent physical impact than anyone I have ever met. He officially turned 50 last night, but no sign of slowing down yet - if anything he appears to be speeding up somehow. Practically the first thing he did, after we got back, was go for a bike ride. I, on the other hand, spent my first day back in town having a four-hour-long brunch, swimming in the creek, going to happy hour, and finally falling asleep during the last ten minutes of a movie. It is indeed good to be home.

Seven Sandwiches

My father is turning into a kind of over-sized bike-riding hobbit creature. He eats first breakfast around 6am, and then second breakfast sometime in the mid-morning, followed by first and second lunch, snack, and a couple of dinners. When he was ordering second lunch the other day, his friend Dan began to wonder if perhaps he was ordering for both of them when he asked the waitress for four bottles of water, a slice of pizza, a piece of quiche, a sandwich, and some ice cream to finish it all off. Dan ate seven sandwiches one day. And still, they think they are burning more calories than they can possibly manage to consume. I was wondering, the other day as I was shivering in the freezing rain near the top of the Col d'Agnel, if I burn more calories by riding up big hills or by trying to keep warm. Yesterday the weather was better and so I think most of my energy went towards riding up the highest mountain pass in Europe, which the pro riders are going to summit today. Tomorrow they ride up the Alpe d'Huez, after which the overall ranking of the riders will become very clear. You simply can't fake being a good rider in the Alps - either you have the strength to get up the hill faster than everyone else, or you fall off the back. It will be very interesting to see who can hang on today, and whether they can keep it up tomorrow or not. It will also be interesting to see what my father orders for first dinner when he arrives in the small town at the base of the mountain later this afternoon.

Interviews and Rides

To check out some interviews I did with riders from Team Columbia, and also to view a couple of workout files from me climbing up the Col d'Aspin and Tourmalet, please go to the TrainingPeaks blog at: http://blog.trainingpeaks.com/

Finish in Foix!

Yesterday I narrowly evaded the French policemen posted at the stage finish in Foix, thus managing to cross the finish line that is normally reserved for pro riders only. My father and his friend Dan did not get past, and were consequently forced to get off the course only about 100 meters from the finish line. Tough luck. Hopefully they don't have any "wanted dead or alive" photos of me racing down the home stretch, to the wild cheers of the spectators gathered to witness the real riders arrive an hour or two later. I felt like Lance Armstrong. Or, well, not quite, but I think I got a taste of the rush that he or Mark Cavendish must feel when they sprint to the finish. I am trying to upload some of my GPS files from the rides we have done, as well as some of the interviews that I have with the pro riders, so as soon as I figure it all out I will provide links.

Tourmalet and rest day!

Wow! Magnifique. Riding up the Tourmalet yesterday was spectacular - beautiful weather and a great view of the riders snaking their way up the mountain. Today is a rest day in Pau, a charming old town on the river near the Pyrenees. Last night the fireworks for Bastille Day were amazing, although the French spectators were a very tough crowd - there was almost no cheering or applause, just a careful consideration of the merits of each explosion, accompanied by much head nodding and pursed lips. At the team Columbia press conference today I got to speak to several riders, including Hincapie and Cavendish, which was pretty exciting. I will try and upload the videos to YouTube later today. I will also try to find Cadel Evans, since I am sure he isn't busy at all, and ask him how it feels to be wearing the yellow jersey after a brutal climb to the finish at Hautacam yesterday.

Bagneres de Bigorre!

We survived our first day! Barely! The hardest part was actually the weather, as lame and wimpy as that sounds - it was really cold on top of the Col d'Aspin, so cold in fact that I couldn't wait on top long enough to see the peloton power up the mountain, but rather was forced to descend to the comfort of a cafe in the town on the other side and watch them come wizzing by on their way up. They finished yesterday in Bagneres de Bigorre, where they will come through again today on their way over Tourmalet to the finish on the top of Hautacam. I am about to ride up to Tourmalet, where I am optimistic that I will have a better view of the climb today, as it is sunny and nice. Plus I have come prepared this time, with a baguette and cheese to stick in the back pockets of my CU cycling jersey. Thus will I feast on the side of a mountain while I wait. My father made it the whole way yesterday, although he was somewhat delayed when they kicked him off the course to make way for a whole slew of corporate sponsored vehicles decked out in parade-like fashion. After they passed, the riders eventually followed, and then we were finally allowed to get back on the course and pick our way through a sea of spectators attempting to descend from the mountain while we rode up. The sheer amount of exhaust being emitted from all of the cars makes me hope that nobody ever does an environmental impact study of the Tour de France, because it must be roughly equivalent to the pollution generated weekly by a developing country. Or maybe not, but I certainly felt like I might pass out from all the fumes. Anyway, off I go now for more! Allez, allez, allez!

Toulouse

So, this is it: the last night before we start riding. We watched the finish in Toulouse today, a hectically exciting and dramatically rainy affair. You can see some terribly choppy videos of this on YouTube at: http://fr.youtube.com/my_videos Before they arrived, I passed the time by agreeing to participate in a sort of mini time trial, on a bike held in place by a trainer atop a stage on the side of the course. I rode fiercely fast for a minute and a half, going just over a kilometer and earning myself a nice T-shirt and a hat. Woohoo! I am excited. My first taste of real Tour riding tomorrow will be a ridiculous climb up the Col d'Aspin, which is the last hill of the day for the regular riders; as I am driving to the end of the stage and then riding back to meet my father, however, it will be my first hill of the day. Drum roll, please...

Le Tour Commence

Well, actually, the Tour started on Saturday, while I was still in Germany mourning the loss of a spot on the US Olympic Kayaking team for my friend Zuzana Vanha. It's shocking how years of hard training to achieve a goal can all come down to a split second of bad luck. Basically, she missed a couple of gates while her teammate didn't miss or even touch any, so she lost her spot. I guess this kind of thing happens in cycling too, when a patch of gravel can send the leader suddenly flying off the road. After today's time trial, the first one of the Tour this year, the upcoming stages will almost certainly hold their fair share of shocking surprises. My father and I will join up with the riders when they come through Toulouse on Sunday the 13th, the day before Bastille Day, and then wind through the Pyrenees, across Provence, and up into the Alps to finish on the Alpe d'Huez. I went for a nice little ride today through fields of sunflowers and lavendar, dotted with crumbling old churches, but from now on I suspect that the rides will be anything but quaint. Turning 25 this Thursday seems like it will officially mark my life turning into a hard uphill phase, but hopefully that's just me being over dramatic...

Augsburg

As Spain finishes celebrating their World Cup soccer victory and France prepares for the Tour to begin, Germany is hosting the Welt Cup kayaking race this weekend in Augsburg. The course, built for the 1972 Olympics, is one of the first man-made kayaking courses ever constructed, a concrete channel branching off from the main river and winding its way through the park-like spectator seating area before rejoining the river again farther downstream. Kayakers from all over the world have gathered for their final chance to make the Olympic team in Beijing, and although everyone is friendly, tension is tangible. Today is the last day before the 3-day race starts tomorrow, so everyone is trying to get in one final workout before weighing their boats, getting their official numbers and time slots, and waiting for the paddling to begin. Having only ever tried kayaking myself a couple of times, in the relative comfort of a swimming pool or a lake, I can barely begin to appreciate the incredible skill required to maneuver a boat up and down-stream through whitewater foaming around randomly placed slalom gates. I can't even paddle in a straight line and keep my boat from flipping over, and yesterday, when my kayaking friend Zuzana convinced me to take a swim with her through part of the course (right under the 'Baden Verboten!' sign), I thought I might drown. Watching the kayaking race is enough excitement for me - I'll stick to bike riding myself!

Milano

Eating and shopping: that's what you do in Milano. I feel that I have done well so far, and could even become quite good at these two activities if I were to stick around long enough. Highlights include a flaming wheel of Parmesan cheese as big as a pizza, set afire to provoke melting and then used as a bowl to mix the macaroni, and white linen pants so long that even stilletto heels can barely be seen poking out the bottom. Va bene....

Saint Tropez

From the quaint charm of Hyeres we went on to the modern glitz of St. Tropez, one of the most ridiculously ritzy little villages in all of France. Our taxi driver drove a Jaguar, and we spotted Keanu Reeves at a club on the water front, next to a line of boats that must cost more money to dock than most people make in a year. We only stayed for a day, which was all we could afford, and then we hopped on a boat to Antibes/Juan les Pins, a nice little place in between Cannes and Nice. A certain amount of confusion about whether our hotel was in Antibes or Juan les Pins, which are basically right next to each other and are often referred to interchangeably, resulted in us taking the extremely scenic route from the dock to our room, but we eventually made it, with some help from a friendly waitress. Now we can relax for our final day in France before heading over tomorrow to Milan, where Nadav flies out on Sunday to return to the States - Bon voyage!

Hyeres

The name of this town sounds like the word for "yesterday" in French, which I find romantically appropriate, as this place really does feel like it was forgotten in the past... one of the first seaside resorts in southern France, Hyeres has a sort of faded glory, a quiet sleepy feel that makes it easy to spend the whole day at the beach, napping, reading, and wondering what's for dinner. Yesterday we took a boat out to the island of Pourquerolles, which I am sure I have just spelled incorrectly. It was a very nice island, covered in old vineyards and ringed by sandy beaches and cliffs. We had mussels and white wine from the island for lunch, and then went back to the hotel and slept through dinner. Oh well! In just about half an hour we are going to St. Tropez, one of the more modern and popular places to play, so we will leave yesterday behind and move into tomorrow.

I know, this was cheesy, but the internet is about to run out, and I have no time to edit it to make it more palatable. We are in France, after all, so cheese is everywhere!

Je arrive!

I am really terrible at spelling things in French - always seem to be missing a vowel or three. Also, apparently, I am not too good at saying things in French anymore either, although I generally understand most of what is going on around me. I will just have to be charmingly silent for a few days - the jet lag makes my brain work too slowly to think of anything really worth saying anyway. As far as writing goes, the French keyboard is just different enough from the English one to make typing tedious. I cannot, for example, work out how to get the thing to do an apostrophe, so there will be no contractions or possessives in this post unless I figure it out somehow. I would ask the friends I am staying with, but they are busy making dinner and it seems like a silly question to bother them with right now. Instead, I will just finish up with the blog and then go sit outside and watch the sun set behind their house, an old stone manor just outside of Toulouse, surrounded by rolling hills and fields... picturesque French countryside that makes you feel like picking sunflowers. Or possibly it makes you feel like riding your bike for hundreds of miles, but not just now. Just now I feel like staying awake long enough to eat dinner will be quite a challenge, and tomorrow I have to get up early to catch the train to Hyeres. Oh, it can be a lot of work going on vacation! But, of course, it is worth it.

Take-Off

Bonjour! After a very early start, a shockingly easy check-in process at the airport seems like a good sign. They didn't even try to charge me for my bike bag and enormous backpack. Don't know what to say, other than merci - au revoir!

Day Before Departure

After taking my final Before-the-Tour ride up Flagstaff, I feel ready to leave Boulder behind for a month, trading in the Rockies for the Pyrenees and the Alps. Not only am I excited about the croissants and the chocolate and the cheese, but also, somehow, I have become just a little bit obsessed with analyzing all the data I will collect during this epic cycling trip. Working with a bunch of software junkies seems to be rubbing off on me, after all. My final ride up Flagstaff was recorded on a friend's Powertap so that I can officially document my Before and After power output, and my training rides for the last month have all been supervised, not by a coach, but by a Garmin device that faithfully reports exactly how slow I really am going. It's gotten to the point where if I do a workout without recording it, I almost feel like it didn't even count. Ridiculous, obviously.

They warned me that this might happen.

Before I begin the grueling process of riding from Toulouse to the Alp d'Huez, however, I get to spend a couple of weeks relaxing on the beaches of southern France and visiting friends in Italy. I'm worried that all this lounging around may ruin the competitive edge I've developed with so much training, but in the end I think my fitness concerns will probably be over-ridden by my talent for relaxing in the sun. I need to rest up anyway to save my strength for the Tour, right?