Recovering in Sunny So Cal

Returned Sunday to the states, riding in So Cal by Monday. Mello Velo marketing slam in Fullerton, San Diego and now Palm Springs! Wednesday we rode with a group of hammer heads through Camp Pendleton, and tomorrow, we hit the epic Box Canyon and up to the trailhead at Joshua Tree. U2 baby!

A couple of final shots I found by searching hard on the internets. The first is from the 4th Stage in the soaking rain, and the second may be my favorite from the whole race. A character of a Chinese racer took my helmet and grabbed the limelight! He could see through the holes!

Final Stage: Pain and Glory (the good kind)

The 7th stage in Shanghai is the fastest: 78 km at an avg. of 49.5 km/hr

The peleton moves like a well oiled chain, snaking around the corners and along the last of our smooth Chinese roads. Muscles send many not-so-sutble signals that I'm finally running on pure fumes here. I'm content following wheels and covering attacks. I think, despite the speed, everyone feels similar to me: there will be no breakaway that stays away today, but we are inspired to make strong efforts. With 2 km to go, I do my job and do it well. I integrate myself into Konica's wannabe-pro leadout train, and the Afrikaners give a loud cheer for me. Finally, I'm where I was brought here to be, driving the pace at the head to a fever pitch. It's such a frozen moment that its hard to remember. Preserving the power in each of my pedals strokes onto the next, I crush myself down in the saddle, then stand to search for more power, tossing the bars from side to side, my thin biceps trying their best to stay attached to the bone. Once again, back down in the saddle, and I'll give it all to keep it single file heading under the banner which reads: The Last Km of the Tour of Hong Kong Shanghai. Everything comes down to this moment and it's over so quickly. I pull off and take my time in the last km, finishing a minute behind the race because I enjoy playing the good diplomat and thanking each awe-struck Chinese bystander for coming out to see us race. It's my own "km of honor" and in the last 100 meters I gather what speed I have left and hold the longest superman pose ever across the finish line.

Good news: the tour is over. Bad news: the tour is over. I already can't wait to return. I think I may be owed some karma cleansing.

With some keen sprinting and epic efforts in the breaks, my team has many laurels to rest on for the time being. Lisban, the Columbian Cosmonaut, is 6th overall in GC and 5th in the points competition. He wins Stage 3a and is in the top 10 every stage. Young buck, Gavi Epstine's got the world by the short hairs and takes the U23 overall and is 14th overall. Chris Lintaman, the Far Eastern Canunk, is the ultimate work horse, never capturing a single prize dollar but without him, we would've NEVER been able to get where we are at the end of this UCI race. A real class act, that guy. And the most important thing, he wants it. He's got the attitude that "There are no problems, only solutions. Living on the dole in Taiwan may sound like a pufter's role to most. I say Chris is a man of sacrifice and desire. "Young Dragon" Raj Seepersaud is a true player with his own little "Papi" and "Julie" to take care of now. He and I are the true beneficiaries of the winnings of the team, and I am indebted to all my team, here in China and back in New York. This self proclaimed "Idiot on 2 wheels" still has a lot to learn, but it was really just bad luck which prevented me from making more of a difference. I was able to complete the entire race and perhaps learn how to keep position when thrown a stiff Afrikan elbow.

The race is over, and so the nightlife bekons!? However, the nightlife in Shanghai, or for that matter, any life outside of the confines of the race and the accompanying hotel, is just not meant to be for the team this go around. We receive the prize money 3 hours later than expected Saturday night and don't leave for "The Bund" until 11:00, but I guess its fitting seeing that we're now more "Euro" than American by this point. Sean, the Ho Jo manager, says that Shanghai moves forward one year in the course of 3 months, and from the rainy rooftop of Bar Rouge, far above the timeless panhandlers and shoe shiners, I view a skyline that would make Gotham jealous. No picture can do it justice, so the Zen photograph will remain the best lingering image of a China that I never saw.

But the hipster bar is still a bar and its smokey and loud and the only real excitement I find is in proudly wearing my "SAVE TIBET" t-shirt, and hearing girls whisper behind me, "Is he really wearing that?!"

Plus, the most magnificent piece of bike art I have ever or think will ever see: a 4-story tall structure of BMX frames stacked one on top of each other through their head tubes. Pics to come!
Wrap up: Wrap up?! Hell no, I'd never wish such a thing for an ever evolving experience like racing here is (notice, not "was"). To think most people (I included) try to "look back" and "take note" and compress this adventure into a box small enough to fit in their already calcified heads! Plus, in all truth, there was really little free time to explore that vast undiscovered country. I hear that it's illegal for foreigners to drive here, but maybe not ride here (as in ride a motorcycle around the mountain villages and oldest parts of the Great Wall). Talk about a dangerous endeavor, like Indiana Jones but hopefully without the snakes.

Five Star Friday (HO JO STYLE!)

Yes indeed, it's true. When I first view the hotel schedule and see that our last 2 nights of the race, just outside of Shanghai, would be spent at a Howard Johnson, I didn't expect to spend anymore time than needed. Much to my happy char gin, the manager Sean and his staff at the Ho Jo Zhangjiang (think "ying yang", but with a Heineken in your hand) Shanghai have a nice thing going with a name that, at least for me, formally meant $2.50 happy hour drinks at a smokey dive in Times Square. Saving the best for last, buffet and bath robe in gratis.

Great race on Friday, nearly 100 km circuit, along the ocean and back into the finish in suburban city of Shanghai. Smooth roads, and I'm becoming more relaxed, yet clearly too little too late for this wounded warrior to make any clear chance of a breakaway. Happy to see Lisban in the attack, unfortunately along with all the other major GC players, so he wasn't able to gain any time on the few men ahead of him.

The major thing to report is that my inhibitions, the few I had to begin with, are now complete gone. But in a very good natured way. During a prerace TV interview with a local reporter, I ask her what she thinks about Tibet. The awkward moment passes when I flash my sweat wrist band, with its big red Communist star on it and I crack a big smile. "I love China. And your pretty boots!"

In terms of my position in the race, well, it doesn't matter. But then, it does. One on hand, I've gone from troubled to tough to total catastrophic, but being the "Lantern Rouge" in a UCI stage race gives me an overwhelming feeling of freedom and service to my team and I nothing-to-lose positive attitude

With one stage to go, two flat tires, and my scar count near 2 dozen, I couldn't be in a better state. I still have a lot left to give. And who knows? I think I have some lucky stored up somewhere. We'll do what we gotta do to get our man in position for a final stance tomorrow.

Are we in Shanghai yet? All I see is smog....

(once again, Lane is not only a good wrench, but a keen eye when it comes to the lens. Thanks buddy)

Thursday is Spa Day... at least a mud bath

Really, you all must go to cyclingnews.com and click through to the pictures from Stage 4 of the Tour of Hong Kong Shanghai. 132 km of the dirtiest, wettest, most muddy I have ever been on or off a bike. The only redeeming factor being he return of my orange pride: my basketball of a helmet. The conniving South Afrikaners "found" it in the hotel lobby Tuesday night and waited until moments before the start of today's stage to tell me they had it. They claim I didn't look professional enough wearing it. I say they just wanted to steal my powers! Excuse my judgement, but Crummiest Team Ever, those Afrikaners.

Another example, a little long winded but it proves my point. At the end of the previous stage (3a), 2 of their riders finish 1st and 2nd, in front of our Lisban who was 3rd. There is a time bonus awarded to the top 3 on each stage: 10, 6, and 4 seconds. In the overall classification for the race, the guy who wins Stage 3a is not the team leader in the overall but is behind his teammate who was 2nd on the stage... BUT, the results for the stage have the two guys accidentally reversed (1st in 2nd, 2nd in 1st), thus giving the greater bonus and bigger advantage for the overall win to the rider who didn't actually deserve it. Confusing, yes, and the difference is small, but the point is that the team didn't tell the race officials that the posted results were wrong, and held on tightly on the tiny bonus. And for what? It's subtle, but innately dirty.

There are at least 4 pro teams here of various levels. The boyish pros from Johannesburg have just a bit too much sense of entitlement for their skill level. Just my two cents...

Wednesday is Travel Day... oh joy overcoming

Wednesday is a 10 hr bus ride. No ride to write about but I will post a few pics, shot by my great team mechanic, Lane Herrick.... which I can't seem to do right now. Tomorrow, okay?

Tuesday is Redemption Day

My teammate Lisban wins stage 3a from a huge break in the field and is sitting is 2nd place overall. Gavi is also in the break and this put him solidly in the U23 young riders jersey! Bammage! I place in the top 20 and am ecstatic!

The 10 km course is lined body to body 3-deep with people who, when going over 30 mph, all look the same. It seems as if we are racing around a rubber factory, because I know the smell of cork pads burning on carbon rims, and this is not it.

In the caravan of travel for the race, the team shares bus #4 with the Malaysian Cycling Federation team, and their jersey has a big MCF on it (inside joke with the Minnesota Cycling Ferderation). We laugh and joke. They call me "mummy" because of all my bandages and compression wraps. I moan every time I move after sitting for so long on the bus, and because I said it the first time on accident, I continue crying out "Obama!" in various tones and pitches. It may help me more than make them laugh, but it usually does both. Laughter is the great communicator. Emotion is the international language. Oxen are everywhere here, more than deer in the states. The bus makes an evasive maneuver narrowly avoiding a herd crossing the road, I moan again and secretly am glad that I am not reading about the presidential race back home.

The Saga of the Helmet

Crashing early on in a stage race puts one in a very stressful state, which is not a good place to be early on in a stage race. You quickly become concerned only with your recovery and health, and thus some focus is retracted from all other areas, including but not exclusive to... your race helmet. When we transfer from Hong Kong to mainland China and must go through customs, twice, and reload all gear onto another bus, I end up leaving my helmet on the Hong Kong side. This fact wasn't realized until minutes before the 2nd stage in Gannan. The quick thinking (aka, sneaky) bike rider in me knows I need something on my head if I wish to continue the race, so I "nab" a construction worker's helmet off of his nearby moto. Luckily, the race commissioner saves me from Chinese karmic prison and he procures a color-cordinating item called "Black Diamond" which has a spider design on top. It is quite apparent that this helmet is intended only for children, but with laughter all around, I can't complain. Now the tallest rider in the race has a bright orange beacon on his mellon.

I have this wonderful item for 3 stages, and manage to endear myself to the entire race, but last night after the long double stage day, in the lobby of the BJ Garden Hotel (how you like that for a name?), nearly sleep walking and badly in need of a shower, the last thing I remember is the helmet falling off my head and bouncing on the marble floor (I had it on my head so I wouldn't lose it!). It is out there somewhere, but not anywhere I know. Luckily, a racer from a Chinese team was eliminated yesterday and I can use his stinky specimen for the remainder. I just have to answer to the race commissioner now...