On the Podium

Well, now we have lived every american bike riders dream we got the chance to participate in a road race in France. Last sunday we said good bye to our guests at the airport and headed north to Vaison la Romaine and a date with The Vaclusienne a 140 km road race around the Mt Ventoux.

The race started fast, we had 20 motor bike officials, cars, road closure. The raced sped through the little villes with police standing on the traffic furniture blowing whistles and waving flags. The peleton of 200 + split around the roundabout we were in a dream.

The selection started on the first climb 5 km at 4%. Blake and had little problem staying in the top 2o. A twisitng 40 mph descent snaked down the climb and brought us to the famous town of Bedoin. All was going well until the 60 km mark when on a rough patch of road I saw Blake in front of me with his hand in the air. Blake floated back and told me he had a flat and he needed my wheel, I was riding for him and the answer was painfully clear. Quick change, a quick push and Blake was chasing. I remembered the famous video clip of a Tour rider who was in yellow had to give his wheel to his team captain, then sat on the wall and wept. But such is bike racing.

And so the story can only continue on his terms. Take it, boyo...

So, bammage, I'm suddenly on the rivet and quickly into the "red zone" as the Cotes du Ventoux vindyards which accompany our beautifully tranquil tour rides, pass by in blur. Flatting on a wheel in a race most days means "Game Over", but begging Joey to give me his wheel (knowing that his race would be over at that moment), I knew I've have the power of two men in my legs. Still, the chase of a lifetime trying to regain contact with the peleton lay ahead.

During the next climb to St. Hubert, a 15 km gradual grade, catching groups of five or ten, trying to find out how many were still ahead, I willed my bike up and rejoined a peleton of 15 more strong men I recognize from earlier. Five were away, I learned from a Belgium. Or did I hear five when he really said 15, which in French while breathing through my ears sounds very similar. Nothing to do but attack again, just as we past our favorite boulangere in all of the Vaulcuse. Couldn't I just convince the rest of the racers to stop for moment? I'd even buy! I thought of Joey. He'd stay and wait around. There was still 50km left after all, and I was dying from the chasing efforts. Then I thought Vino, and wine, and the feeling of wind in your face. Attacking into a downhill with a headwind, legs breaking, no food, couldn't afford to stop at the feed, way past the comfort zone, i reached to front five, and subsequently, cracked, "popped", saw black snow as the hamstrings turned into baseballs, and so i ended up getting second in my age group, 8th overall, and won my first trophy ever, which i placed last in the Cafe de France (our local bar). This week, I will drink only bubbly, and only from this cup.


We welcomed our new guests the next day, and we now are on day 3 sitting at the Cafe de France. The Ventoux in on tomorrow and everyone is hungry to go at it. Today is a light day with a Kayak ride down the Sorgue river. We will blog the ride tomorrow.

Abientot

Joe and Blake