Hitting the Ground Running, I Mean Sliding

It's 4:22 Sunday morning and I am drinking as much coffee as I can take before we all load on the bus for Hong Kong Island and the first stage of this much anticipated race. Once there, we line up for the start at the HSBC building, and I notice that behind the racers, we are outnumbered at least 3 to 1 by the VIPs and other amateur cyclists who are here to participate in the Victoria Harbor Fun Ride that takes us 10 km down the island to a small corner of Hong Kong where are start the actual racing. Suffice to say, it is the most dangerous part of the day, with many enthusiasts getting far too involved in the "fun" but really just end of running into a motionless caution cone or the medium on the highway. Its a laugh and I manage a few superman poses for the numerous camera-equipped motorcycles. I meet a French-Austrialian, Pierre, who grew up in the shadow of Mt. Ventoux. We chat about Life, Lance and Love, and I promise to get him on a Mello Velo Tour someday.

Basta! I came here to race bikes, so lets race bikes!

The gun sounds and it's all Zen. Finally, time begins to slow down and I know I'm in the zone because I can't remember if I have 3 or 4 teammates. Yelling and cussing gets underway quickly. It's nice to get things out of the way that are inevitable in a stage race, such as throwing elbows at another rider in order to keep your position in the peleton. What I witness during the stage is a dirty South African and a spastic Dane exchanging international relations in the form of some heavy "handed" memos.

What I didn't need to experience, yet something that comes along with these races, is a high speed spill. I avoid the first crash of the race, but with less than 2 laps to go, I am the victim of a chain reaction caused by my own teammate dodging a crack in the road. The result is an extra close-up view of a few front wheels, some heavy road rash on all joints and buttocks, and terribly twisted neck. The real bummer is my bike. As the race passes me for the final lap, all I see is the muggy Hong Kong sky and my 2 Zipp carbon wheels in not-so-circular shapes.

I'd love to show pictures of the burns and cuts, and my middle finger missing a good chunk of nail, but I'll save them for those I need most pity from, like my loving girlfriend.

A good result for the team though, as Lisban nabs fifth. I just wish I could've been there to help him, as if he needs it.

I am in pain but positive, for I am given the same time as the leader and allowed to continue the race. I live to fight another day. No time to rest though as we quickly get back to the hotel and pack up everything and head for mainland China. It's a ten hour bus ride to the next town, plus we have to unpack all the luggage and bikes, take a stroll through Chinese customs, and transfer to another bus. My teammate Chris teases me by mentioning that we just passed the town where all the carbon bike frames and wheels are being made and I could get a new pair for less than 200 bucks! Arrrrggghhh! My left butt cheek really burns!

Final highlights of Hong Kong (not pictured because the internets here are so slow, but wait, yes, it works!): nearly touching the top of the tunnel on the bus, the open air fish and meat market (i think that's tripe?) and the 10,000 Buddhas Monastery